Spider-Man: Game of Gods
by D The Wanderer
Summary: Still reeling from the events of the Spider-Verse and from Otto's possession, Peter Parker is given a watcher by his old friend Wolverine...in the form of Wolverine's troubled clone, Laura Kinney. Watch as the two develop something more than a friendship as they fight crime in New York, while they try to uncover the mysterious Game of Gods. NOW REWRITTEN!
1. Chapter 1

**D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Hello, fellow fanfictioners, and welcome to D. The Wanderer's Author Rant corner! The story you're gonna read is a project I've had on my mind for quite some time, and centers on the loose relationship between Peter Parker and Laura Kinney developing ino something more, all the while trying to uncover the schemes of two mysterious figures playing "The Game of Gods", previously referenced in one of my Doctor Who fanfictions, _Breaking Point_ , and in my Star Wars mystery Dark _Mirror._ As for those of you who don't love this pairing, well, then, I'm sorry, but I personally think that, while non-canon, it is one of the most inspirational ones (and yet there aren't enough fanfictions on it), at least, that's my opinion...and don't worry, this story is not focused on romance only.**

 **But enough with that! I hope you'll be indulgent with this story and that you'll appreciate it, so...**

 **...On with the story then!**

 **Chapter One: School attack**

 _Late August 2015_

Peter Parker AKA Spider-Man sighed and leant against a doorway, looking at the students darting out of the class at the first ring of the bell, pooling into the courtyard of the Jean Grey School for Gifted Students

With a wistful smile, he sighed as his mind carried him thirteen years back, when he was just a nerdy kid fooling around in spandex. Well, to be truthful, he still fooled around in spandex, but a part of his mind would forever feel a craving for those more innocent times, when things were simpler and Gwen was still alive. _Gwen..._

He knew that it was all in the past, and that Gwen couldn't be brought back, like Uncle Ben, but he kept thinking that if only he'd been _faster..._ he'd never have found himself here. He'd never had found someone - - a whole race, to be true- - sharing his same problems... what a mindscrewer.

"Penny for yer thoughts, bub?" the Headmaster's gruff Canadian accent snapped him out of his reverie.

"Just...reminiscing." Peter attempted a half-hearted smile which earned a smirk from Logan. "Something very unwise to do without alcohol, then."

"Heh. If you got any beers, I'm up for it." Peter shrugged, rubbing his eyes. "Might not be the best idea however. I got a fundraiser this evening, and turning up drunk like Stark does most of the time would be a little embarassing. Thanks all the same, but I think I'll pass, mate."

"Glad to see bein' dead ain't taken away yer spunk." Logan snarked back, but then leant against the wall himself and continued with a more serious tone: "So how's resurrection been treatin' ya this time around?"

"As always."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah." he nodded, then turned to face Logan. "I must say, I'm really glad you asked me to come here as a substitute teacher, Logan."

"Teachin' a couple brats more fun than runnin' a company?" Logan grinned, and Pete chuckled. "Unbelievably so. I'm...I'm still picking up the pieces of what Otto Octavius turned my life into, and with the affermath of the whole Spider-Verse thing...I really needed a break, Logan. Thanks."

"Meh, that's what friends are for." Logan shrugged, and Pete jibed: "And I thought you'd never turn out to be just a big softy at heart, Wolvie."

However, before Logan could gut him, the deafening roar of an explosion ran through the school halls. "We're under attack!" someone shouted, and the two heroes darted to heed the call of duty.

 **-Line Break-**

Outside, two students, Hope Summers AKA Messiah and Talon AKA Laura Kinney, found themselves cornered by a group of Purifiers. The two weren't having too much trouble, really. It was just that Hope, as much as any other person in the school (and especially Logan, what with him being Laura's sort-of father) wished Laura would just learn some restraint instead of downright turning people into sushi. Mostly because Purifiers were one Hell of a mess to clean up...and her spider-themed mentor had teached her that "From great powers comes great responsibility" afterall.

So when both the Spider-Man himself jumped into the fray, she did a mental "whooopeee" out of joy. This guys were starting to become annoying...it seemed that they were an endless river, another Purifier appearing every time they nailed one down.

"Hey, Hope!" He smiled brightly under his mask at her as he web-slinged straight into the fight, webbing a pair of hapless students away before engaging into a fist fight with a Purifier armed in a facsimile Shocker armor - - only this guy was a pushover and he'd forgotten to pack the webware nanogear he needed to test his brand new Parker Industries-issued Spider-Man Armor Mark II on the fieldanyway, so he went at it with his usual mocking gig, even listing the moves to the hapless Purifier before downing him: "Right parry, punch, kick, left parry, Chuck Norris goes for the roundhouse kick and you ain't got no more quarry, boyo."

Then, as the man went down in a heap, he turned to Hope in mock disbelief - - casually webbing another Purifier to a tree without even looking at him - - and asked: "This guys giving you trouble, kiddo?"

"Speak for yourself, old man." Hope chuckled, downing another bunch of Purifiers with her Phoenix powers - - this was almost too easy- -, while Spider-Man pouted in indignation: "Hey! If _I_ am old, then what does that make Uncle Wolvie?"

"Why you little punk - -" Logan grumbled as he fended off a blade-master Purifier in no time - - shit bub nicked him - - then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Purifier pull his gun on Laura - - but before he could rush him Spider-Man had jumped in front of Laura, taking the shot and knocking out the shooter.

Laura was left speechless. What could have compelled the older hero to have done such a foolish action like taking the shot meant for her straight into the shoulder, make an idiotic quip and jump back into the fray, knowing she had a healing factor? She really couldn't explain that to herself. It went against what she'd been taught about the world by the Facility. Spider-Man just made short work of the Purifiers and engaged in frivolous mentor-student shenanigans with Hope Summers (which always struck her as unreal at best; Laura really couldn't believe how the X-Men could have trusted such a bumbling fool to train the Mutant Messiah), but made no move towards her, no reminder of her owing her life to him.

It wasn't like when Logan underestimated her and treated her as a "freakin' bub not understandin' she needs help sometimes" (which Laura found ironical, since her "father" shared her same uneasiness about accepting the help of others). No. It was even worse, because she couldn't understand it, and it made her angry, not understanding things. Especially Spider-Man. Despite what her "father" had once casually told her of the arachnid-themed vigilante having had a really rough life, the man seemed to be constantly smiling and cracking jokes just to annoy the Hell out of people. It made no sense. Yet the Wolverine had been vague in his remark about the Spider's past: it seemed as if he didn't want to spill it, as if he...understood. As if he held respect for the man and his mission.

And Laura knew firsthand that gaining Logan's respect was no easy feat.

This were the reasons the man made no sense to her.

"Something on your mind, Laura?" she was shaken out of her brooding reverie by Hope herself. Spider-Man stood next to her, his face unnervingly unreadable behind the mask, the white visors chillingly reflecting Laura's image inside themselves. The question was out of place, Laura knew it: everyone would have something on his mind after killing someone. Asking her such an idiotic question was probably part of Hope's coping mechanism.

"I'm fine, Messiah." she replied in a deadpan voice, then turned at Spider-Man, who had bandaged the hole in his shoulder with some of his webbing. "That was foolish of you, Spider-Man. I could have got back up from a bullet wound with no problem."

"Call it foolish, or a kneejerk reaction,-" Spider-Man snarked, uncharacteristically edgily. "But I don't like people I care getting shot at, not if I can help it." and then added, quietly, but unfortunately not quietly enough to go unnoticed by Laura's enhanced senses: "Not again."

The tone held something very few could say to have heard from the web-head: regret.

But regret of what? "What do you mean, not again?"

The scientist was taken aback by the question, and the curiosity behind it. Laura looked, for once, genuinely puzzled, and Hope too. "Well- -"

"Hey, Web-Head!" thankfully, Logan bailed him out. Peter did not want to relive the reason he'd become Spider-Man. "We still ain't finished that conversation..." he grinned evilly, claws unsheated.

"Glad to see you're back to your old self, Wolvie. Your earlier bout of caring-ness made me fear it was the Skrull Invasion all over again!" Peter joked, earning a chuckle from Hope, then making a run for it as Logan paused to glare at the teenage girl - - and getting stopped by a firm, hairy hand grasping his web-bandaged shoulder. _Real_ painfully. Dammit, what bug of friendship had bitten Logan lately? "Not so fast, Parker."

"Aw, c'mon, Logan! You know I was just joking earlier, and I'd really like not to die again for...what, the fourth time? The fifth?" The web-head pouted, masking the pain in his shoulder well. "Ya sure ya don't need to get looked up, kiddo?" The feral Canadian midget threw Peter off with this question. What was going on today? Since when was Logan so...friendly?

Well, since never, actually. Was he dying?

Well, since he'd lost his healing factor, it was all too tangible a possibility.

"Bullet came right through my shoulder, I should be okay by tomorrow." Spidey gave an awkward thumbs up, but frowned when Logan's glare told him that Logan wasn't talking about the bullet wound. Damn, the guy was really dying then! "Like I told you earlier, I'll be fine. It'll take time to sort everything out but...I'll be fine." he spoke with a mighty sigh, and Logan let him out of his death grip. The web-head gave Hope a quick hug, and a two-fingered salute to the two feral mutants, and swung away. " _Adiòs, amìgos!"_

"Wait! You still have to tell me what you meant!" Laura called, but the spider was already out of earshot.

"Yeah, I too hate when he does that." Hope chuckled, but Laura ignored her. The Mutant Messiah's recounting of Spider-Man's odd training style was bizzarre at best to everyone who heard it, and Laura-especially Laura-made no difference.

"There he goes with his responsibility gig as usual." Logan rolled his eyes at the rapidly-disappearing form of Peter Parker AKA Spider-Man, Hope nodding in agreement. Laura, on her part, just fumed. -Why do you two always seem to know what the Hell that annoyance is talking about?-

As if in on the same joke, both mutants eyed her blankly for a second, before turning their face in opposite directions, whistling innocently."Sorry Laura, but it's really not our place to tell." Hope said simply, and at Laura's glare, she supplied: "Spidey's had it rough. Not as much as in the last weeks however, with the whole dying and getting his body stolen by a mad scientist. It's taking him a bit too long to recover, however. Usually he's way more cheerful around here. You saw it too, he didn't even make Logan wanna gut him as usual!"

"He actually almost managed that before, and he wasn't even tryin'." Logan grumbled, then added. "But Hope's right. Webs's taking this worse than usual. I actually fear he might do something...rash."

"Why? Isn't he always rash?" Laura puzzled, and Logan actually chuckled. "Trust me, kid always holds back. Y'really don't wanna see him doin' somethin' really "rash", kid. Oh, this has just given me a wonderful idea." The Canadian grinned evilly, a sight that unsettled both younger mutants, before turning back to Laura. "Tell ya what, kiddo, why don'tcha take a couple days off and go visit him in N.Y.? He might actually be able to teach ya some restraint."

"I don't see you restraining yourself" Laura deadpanned, and her "father" actually s _ighed_. "True, but I don't want ya growin' up like some carbon copy of me, Laura. And despite what ya think, Webs's actually an OK guy. There's more than somethin' ya can learn from him."

"I can confirm that!" Hope piped up, and Laura found herself groaning inwardly. True, she'd ached for a break from school, and she hadn't had the chance to make the Spider spill what she meant...but she didn't like New York much, being relatively new to the world and being the Big Apple possibly one of the worst hives of scum and villainy on Earth-616. But, on the other hand, she'd never really managed to resist Hope's puppy dog eyes, in the brief year she'd known her.

Finally, she gave up: "There's really no way out of this, is there?"

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **And so the first chapter is down. As for the second one...It's right next door** **, roughly, so please stay in tune, and in the meant time, don't forget the Three Rs: Read, Review and Recommend!**

 **P.S. Yes, Logan is still alive in this story. I wasn't pleased with the way Marvel handled his death, so I decided to take the matter into my own hands.**


	2. Chapter 2

**D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Hello, and welcome back, fellow fanfictioners! I gotta say it before we begin: watch it.**

 **Why?**

 **Well, even if it's a revision, there'll be a little more angst and hurt/comfort than in the previous chapter, though it will get better in the end. I'm telling you this from the start so that angst-haters are free to walk away from this chapter without necessarily having to read it. As for those of you who'll proceed to read on nonetheless, I hope you'll enjoy the chapter. Happy reading and...**

 **...On with the story, then!**

 **Chapter Two: Meh, it's a Thursday.**

 _Later that day, in New York City..._

Peter Parker sighed, performing a perfect backflip to land on the roof of his apartment. He did not feel like returning to it, returning to four empty walls. After his roommate, Anna Maria Marconi, had found herself a new accomodation, it felt kinda lonely in there, but he couldn't have very well forced her to stay. Afterall, things had got a bit awkward between them in recent times, and that frankly was to be expected. Anna Maria had fallen in love with the same man that had, for a time, inhabited Peter's body-yes, Otto Octavius himself-but since Octavius had seemingly died for good, the romance had ended, and though Peter and Anna Maria had managed to become friends...well...let's say that seeing everyday the face of the man you'd fallen in love with, knowing that it wasn't really that man, it had never been-it wasn't easy for her. It wouldn't be easy for anybody, Afterall, but he understood that, because he'd had his fair share of heartbreak in the past...actually, he was pretty sure that the only guy he could actually relate to was - - **SPIDER SENSE: SOMEONE'S SNEAKING UP ON YOU MOTHER******!**

Peter's istinctive reaction was to shoot a web-blindfold as soon as his Spider-Sense rang into his skull, but froze when he saw who the creeper was. "Oh, hi, it's you." he chuckled awkwardly, seeing the intimidating scowl of Talon AKA Laura Kinney directed at him.

"We still haven't finished our earlier conversation." she kept her voice level, but Peter knew she was pretty mad at him, and not because of his Spider-Sense screaming madly in his ears to run or he would never have any Spider-Babies.

"Yeah, sorry if I darted out of it so...rudely." he grinned sheepishly behind the mask, trying not to set her off. "So, whatcha doin' here in the Big Apple?" he threw casually and Laura explained: "I'm actually here for you. I have to admit, it wasn't totally easy to track you down, Doctor Peter Benjamin Parker."

"Wha-I-I mean-how d-didja-?" he stuttered in shock, trying (and failing) to pick his jaw off the floor (or the roof, in this case).

"I followed your scent. And the only apartment in this block with a with a roof window was Peter Parker's, and you just opened that same roof window."

"Actually, it's a skylight. And Peter Parker has been seen more than once in the company of Spider-Man..." Peter countered, but Laura shrugged it off with a cocky smirk: "You mean Hobie Brown? Sorry, but no impersonator can fool my nose."

Peter fought the urge to bang his head on something that wouldn't actually break apart if he tried. Damn, the girl was _good_. Tilting her head to the side as if scrutinizing him, the girl commented: "I must say, I still find it difficult to believe that you and Peter Parker are the same guy. I mean, he's a worldwide-renowned businessman and scientist...and you're an idiot in spandex."

"Say what?"

"Well, you treat everything as if it's just some big game! I can't honestly see what Logan taught I could learn from you!" Laura protested, and Peter sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Look, I know you and Logan pretty much hate me, but..."

"I don't _hate_ you, despite your annoying behavior, and Logan doesn't either." Laura scoffed, but then her glare was harsher. "But I can't understand why he respects _you_ so much when it took _me_ two years to gain his respect."

"Well you're second best at what you do, and what you do ain't very nice." Peter lightly joked, but Laura shrugged off his hand. "Keep up with this idiotic jokes and one day, I'll be the best at what I do, and not the second best anymore, you'll be the first I'll go after."

"And when you _do_ become the best at what you do, because I've faith that you will, I probably won't be there anymore." Peter said, shocking her. He took off his mask and ran his hand chestnut hair, his hazel eyes eyes filled with a seriousness that Talon had never seen in anyone's eyes, and started ranting, pacing around in anger: "Seriously, let's face it. I ain't no Norse God nor immortal mutant: you're right, at the end of the day, I'm just some geeky idiot in spandex, fighting enemies always bigger and stronger than me. I probably won't make it to middle age. I could die today, tomorrow, the day after or even ten years from now, but I'll die, and sure as hell not of old age. But despite this, I keep going, because I made a promise, to be never cruel nor cowardly, to never give in and never give up. And you wanna know why?"

He stood tall over her, over fourteen, nearly fifteen years of pain engraved deep into his dark eyes, a pain that while it couldn't match Laura's, it would never go away, no matter what. But she stood her ground. "Yes."

"Because, when I go bitten by a damn radioactive spider, I could have done the right thing, but no, all I wanted was money...and a man died!" he exploded, throwing his mask to the ground. "I tried to cash in at wrestling with my powers, and I didn't stop a thief who'd robbed the guy who cheated me out of the prize money. And that night...that night that same robber shot and murdered the man who'd raised me, the man I considered a father...but I could have stopped him! I could have saved Ben Parker, but did I?! I didn't!"

He was seriously shocking Laura now. She'd been meaning to make Spider-Man spit his reason for saving her, but she didn't think it would have been caused by such a trauma. To tell the truth, she'd never thought that his origin would be...this. But he wasn't finished. "I found the man and beat him up out of anger, but just as I was going to kill him, I stopped. You want to know why?"

He was calmer, now. Deadly calm. Almost serene, Laura thought. The pain was still there, except that a sad smile graced his boyish features. "It was because of what Uncle Ben had told me, a sentence I've made into my creed, one that I've lived by everyday since that fateful night...one I hope you'll learn to live by, in time...With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility." he spread his arms wide, as if trying to embrace the entire city. "This entire city...it's filled with thugs, murderers, rapists, pushers, and criminals bold enough not to hide under the mask of a supervillain. But I never killed any of them. And it's not just because Uncle Ben wouldn't have wanted that, no. My powers could end the crime of this city in a day, but I chose instead to make this city, every person in it, _every single New-Yorker_ , my responsibility...so that they wouldn't end up like Uncle Ben."

"That's...noble." Was all Laura could say. At first, she' thought of Spider-Man's no-killing rule as a weakness; yet now she saw the tremendous will Peter had to have to pursue that goal, to keep himself from breaking down every day.

"I see the man who killed Uncle Ben in every criminal I catch. That's why I make those quips. So that they don't see it." he said, with the thousand-yard stare in his eyes. A stare she'd only seen in the eyes of Agent Venom, Captain America and Logan so far: the stare of a soldier. "Sometimes I think I'm just doing it not to turn into the same man that killed Uncle Ben. So that I won't turn into..."

"...A monster." Laura finished grimly, the same stare into her eyes. "Like me."

Then, just as quickly as Peter snapped out of his sad mood, Laura retreated back behind her hard exterior, as Peter stated: "You're not a monster, Laura."

"I am." she said plainly and simply, unsheating her claws and brandishing them in front of Peter's face. "Look at this claws, Parker: they've killed dozens and dozens of people."

"You think I haven't killed?" Peter asked back, unflinchingly. "You're not a monster, Laura. If you were, I'd be, too."

"You may have caused your uncle's death," Talon replied harshly, "But I was forced to kill my own mother! Now, tell me if you still think someone like me is not a monster!"

"Going by that logic, Logan too would be a monster." Peter dismissed, his earlier bout of self-loathing giving way to concern for Laura's own one. He didn't want a girl so young to hate herself as he did in his earlier days. In fact, he wished no one would ever have to. "Do you consider your own father to be a monster?"

"But...he's different." Laura frowned, her tone becoming quiet, in stark contrast to the anger it had contained just a couple minutes previously. "He's-he's not a clone like me."

"So what?" Peter threw thee question almost casually, causing an expression of pure disbelief to appear on the teen's face. "Do you honestly think that that makes you any less of a person?"

Her silence was heartbreaking.

"Laura, I'm gonna tell you something that ain't easy for me to talk about, but..." Peter began, softly, placing a hand on the feral girl's shoulder, who flinched at the contact. Hard. "...I have been cloned, too. So many times I began to question myself. So many times I began to think that I was a clone, too, and that all my life had been false, a mere photocopy of the original's- - that my memories, the feelings and the very _love_ I felt towards my family and friends were just a-a fake. It was terrible. And sometimes I still find myself thinking I'm not the original, just another copy. But my clones-so many I lost count- -they're all dead, save for one, all still haunting my dreams- -they are not monsters. They're my brothers. And- -I love them."

In response, a lone tear escaped Laura's eye. "Then why it can't be the same for me, too?" she whispered softly, almost inaudibly, and Peter attempted to joke weakly: "Nah, I'm sure ol' Wolvie loves you."

"He once told me that my life was worth less than another girl's." that was it. Peter's heart actually broke at those words. While Uncle Ben had never been a perfect father, he'd never told him such words. _Children should always be supported and encouraged by their parents_ , Aunt May had told him once. No child should ever be told- - _by their own parents on top of all_ \- -that they were worth less than someone else.

He knew Logan had felt a bit awkward around Laura since she'd appeared- - his relationship with his other son _,_ Daken, hadn't been one of the best, either, and he'd lost him too - - and that he certainly wasn't a role model for fathers around the world, but this was unacceptable to the arachnid. He made a mental note to have a little chat with Logan about that, next time he saw him.

"If it makes you feel better," he whispered into Laura's ear, as he hugged her, in a tentative gesture of comfort, "I don't think you're worthless, Laura. In fact, I think you're an amazing girl."

"Why would you say that?" the girl answered, still stiff in his embrace, while tears continued to fall from her green eyes into Peter's suit.

"Because it's true. Put all the blood aside for a moment and look at yourself, Laura." He chuckled weakly, his heart constricting at having to witness an inferiority complex even worse than his own. "I'm just a moron in red and blue long johns, but I'm not blind. You're a great fighter, you're smart, heck, you're probably even more mature than me 'cause I'm pushing thirty and I gotta be already an old man if compared to you, who'll probably look this young for decades (I envy so much it hurts, and I know women who'd kill to be you)" and at this, the girl gave a weak, but marked giggle, causing Peter's face to light up, "And you got a great laugh! Really, you should let it out more! It's a beautiful laugh."

"Beautiful?" the girl looked up in disbelief at him, and Peter smirked: "Well, not as much as you yourself."

Peter felt his awkward (yet, he'd felt, almost spontaneous) attempt at cheering her up almost fail miserably when she looked away, mumbling quietly: "You're the first person to call me beautiful, outside of my...mother."

"What was her name?" Peter asked, softly, not really wanting to awaken bad memories.

"Sarah...Sarah Kinney." Laura replied with a small smile, before finally hugging back. "Thank you. I really needed that." she told him when she detatched herself. Peter just smiled and gave her a thumbs up. "No problem, kiddo. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to blow some steam off on (no kidding, She-Hulk once tried to use me as a punching bag), I'm here."

Laura gave anther, small laugh, that brightened Peter's spirits. "Better hurry, though. Like I told you, I won't make it to next year, probably."

"Now that's an exaggeration." Laura frowned, and Peter shrugged. "Nah, that's probably true. Like you said, I'm just some idiot in a spandex."

"No...you're more." Laura shook her head, then added (and was that a blush on her cheeks?): "And...I want to be more, too."

"I could give you tips, or lessons." Peter joked. "Even better than Avengers Academy."

"That wouldn't be a problem, seeing as I live next door to you." Laura smirked sassily, and at Peter's disbelief she shrugged: "Logan gave me one of his old N.Y. apartments for my stay."

"Well...I think that's fair." Peter nodded, not really knowing what else to say, then reopened the skylight. "See ya tomorrow, then. I'm really sorry we can't start this right now - -but Parker Industries's Horizon University division is hosting a party-slash-fundraiser this evening at seven, so I better not be late."

Right as he jumped down into his apartment, he almost managed to hear Laura smirk: "Horizon University, eh? This might be interesting..."

He couldn't shake off the bad feeling he was getting about this evening to save his life.

 **-Line Break-**

That evening, Horizon University...

"You look real troubled, Pete. I mean, this is a party, not your funeral." Peter's best friend and colleague, Harry Lyman (formerly Osborn), told his CEO with an elbow nudge. "

Ah, sorry, Harry. Just not feeling like partying, that's all." Peter tried to wave him off, but the red-head elbowed him again. "C'mon, this isn't high school anymore! Stop being the wallflower and enjoy yourself for once!"

"I didn't even wanna come, if you really wanna know it." Peter deadpanned, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I know how you feel about this whole stuff. But really, forget about business for a moment and go ask a girl a dance! What abut that one?" he pointed towards a petite, but fit young woman in a black dress, with ebony hair and emerald green eyes-and Pete almost had an heart attack. "L-Laura?"

"You know her?" Harry puzzled, frowning.

"Just a friend- -a-an old student." Pete lied through his teeth, but ended up encouraging Harry even more. "Well that makes everything easier then! Seriously, just GO!"

And he shoved him right into her. "S-sorry." Pete muttered as he surprised her, then coughed embarassedly and asked: "May I have this dance?"

"Sure." Laura said, uncharacteristically dumbfounded, taking his hand. "Why the embarassment, though? We've met just a couple hours ago."

"I just wasn't expecting to find you here." Peter shrugged, and gingerly began guiding her along the music, which was David Bowie's _Fame,_ "It just...doesn't seem your kinda thing."

"It isn't. It really isn't." she grimaced, adding: "Three guys have already tried to ask me out since I was here."

"Well, who wouldn't, after all?" Peter chuckled, and Laura threw him a dirty look. "I was waiting for you, you idiot, if you haven't realized."

"Sorry, but I don't think Logan would approve. I'm a bit too old for you." Peter joked, and Laura responded with an even harsher glare. "I am old enough, Peter Parker. I have been created approximately nineteen years ago. And age gaps aren't really that important."

"Wait, I was just joking..." Peter tried to explain, but Laura took that as an opportunity to grill even more. "Peter Parker, are you trying to deny that you're interested in me?" she said with a confident eyebrow, and Peter sighed: "No, I meant- -ugh. Listen, I won't deny that, but this...this isn't a good moment, for either of us, Laura."

"So, you _are_ denying me." Laura replied harshly, and the song switched to Jefferson Airplane's _Somebody to Love_. Peter merely sighed in frustration: "I am not _denying_ you; what is it with me that interests you so much anyway?"

"You don't match the view the Facility taught me on people. You are too different. You have a goal, something to live for, and your intentions are noble. You saved my life because you thought it was right, and not for another, hidden agenda. You actually mean well." Laura explained, and Peter scoffed in self-irony. "Yeah. An' don't ya forget the road to Hell is paved with good intentions..."

"...And you have absolutely no self-esteem."

"...Yeah, that too."

Laura was about to make another retort when the doors to the ballroom where busted open by a group of armed thugs. Peter was actually dumbfounded at their appearance, for a moment: they looked nothing like any villain of his rogues' gallery, and yet were drastically different from the common street thugs.

The one who Peter assumed to be the leader had his face painted exactly like Heath Ledger's Joker, except the hair was straight and close-cropped, and died black, and black was his lipstick, and his entire outfit. Black leather gloves with brass knuckles, a black leather coat with a leather vest of the same color underneath, and a plain black shirt and matching black combat jeans, with black spiked boots to top it off and an AK-47 in one hand. To be fair, he looked more like a crossover between Heath Ledger's Joker and Brandon Lee's Crow. But his eyes...they were pitch black, truly and utterly terrifying. It was almost as if looking into the eyes of Eddie Brock when he was still Venom.

At his side stood a girl in an almost identical outfit (with the addition of a hood that hung over her eyes and fingerless gloves), about Laura's age, Peter guessed, though she was holding a large steel rod-with an actual blade connected to the pole, almost as if it was a schythe, and was grinning madly, in stark contrast with the leader's seriousness.

At his other side stood a woman that couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than Peter, carrying a rather impressive set of guns and wearing a get-up Pete couldn't decide if it was punk or goth-like: a blue Mohawk stood tall on her otherwise shaved head, and she had red goggles and a yellow bandana concealing her nose, mouth and eyes. Her whole attire (leather vest, spiked boots, sports bra, ripped-to-shreds jeans and elbow-and-knee steel protections) and even her guns were painted in the colors of the Peace Flag, and she even had five rings on both her hands that had one letter of the word PEACE each. All in all, she looked like a walking Peace Flag, much like Captain America wore the Stars'N'Stripes.

And lastly, there was a guy that simply looked terrifying. His face a vibrant color of death, grey eyes that sparkled with red and yellow, as if they were the pictures of a fire, his features tense and set as if they were ready to spring free into pure madness. He wore an elegant suit (complete with waistcoat and pocket watch) that was colored in various shades of blood red, with a wide-brimmed hat (possibly a Stetson?), gloves and sunglasses that were of the same color. He sported no apparent weapon save for a walking stick with a laughing steel skull being the handle, and looked like he was out for blood.

 _Who was he?_

 _Just a Stranger, Aye._

"Harry," Peter leaned in to whisper to his friend. "Now it would really be a good time to call Hobie."

"No can do, mate. He's in Hawaii, you gave him the day off, remember?" the redhead shrugged and Peter fought the urge to facepalm. Luckily, his paranoia had made him wear the costume right under his business suit. "I'm guessing this kind of things happen often here in New York." Laura commented, referring to the gang that had just busted the fundraiser. Peter just shrugged. "Meh, it's a Thursday."

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **By Odin, I hath finally managed to complete the revision of this chapter I therefore and thereby present to thee, Midgardian Mortals!**

 **Sorry, just trying to make a Thor impression (and failing).**

 **So, fanfictioners, how's it going? Are you still with us? Or was this chapter so bad that it made you run for your life worse than a stripper-Deadpool? Seriously, I've put a lot of effort in writing the character's interactions and in creating the attires and faces of the gang that appeared just a couple of hundreds of words above, which will feature as key villains in my story. Just to clarify, they're all OCs, and their personalities and names will feature in the next chapter, but I'd really know what you think of them by this first glance. Constructive criticism is appreciated, too.**

 **P.S.=Hobie Brown is the vigilante known as Prowler, and _also_ the Head of Security at Parker Industries, and _also_ the Spider-Man impersonator for the occasions in which Peter Parker and Spidey need to be seen together (Spidey is apparently Parker Industries's mascot and Peter's bodyguard, too) or Peter is away with the X-Men or the Avengers for long periods of time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**D. The Wanderer's Author's Rant**

 **Hello Fanfictioners! Again, an later-than-I-imagined post! Did you like the previous chapter? Did you like the mysterious villains I introduced in it? Because this chapter is going to deal with them and what they're capable of, just as I promised in the previous Rant. I hope you like it, because I love writing fight scenes even if I'm not a master of doing so (it actually took me a month to rewrite it satisfyingly). Therefore, happy reading and...**

 **...On with the story, then!**

 **Chapter Three: Games that are far too much for adults**

Lo, the Murder's found itself a Crew! (Though it's inefficient as it comes)

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the Ezio-slash-Crow-cosplayer girl announced, stealing the Heath Ledger quote Peter would have found more appropriate on her male counterpart's lips: "Please stay quiet while we kill as many people as possible of you."

"This is preposterous!' J. Jonah Jameson himself blistered, but before he could go on one of his usual rant he was beaten to a punchline by another middle-aged chemicals magnate and event funder: "Yeah, who do you think you are, you clowns?"

"Tonight's entertainers." The male Crow lookalike calmly replied, and promptly shot him in cold blood. "And we're just doing our job."

"Yeah, we too - -" a young security guard muttered under his breath, reaching for his gun - - and the Peace Girl dropped him dead with a colleague trying to imitate him, and then her gun was aimed at Peter's head before the two bodies even fell to the floor.

"F***" Peter thought, his hand going instinctively to his webware, as the bullet went straight through his forehead...

...only it didn't. The .44 Magnum cartridge was sliced in two by Laura's upper left claw as she landed in front of him and Harry, decked in full Talon gear. "Go call the cops, and get someone to get everyone out." she barked to the redhead, and as soon as Harry turned on his heels, the new Spider-Armor was up and ready for combat.

"I like it when you take charge, Kiinney." Peter quipped, !and Laura readied her claws, growling: "Less talk and more action, webhead. We got interrupted again."

 _And thank God for sparing me the awkwardness,_ Peter mentally added, this train of thought interrupted too when the head honcho uselessly emptied his AK-47 on his new suit.

"Bang! Bang!" The Spider-Man quipped

 _(Holy shit that still hurt like Hell this thing needs some serious work on impact absorption)_

and decided to reply to fire with fire, firing his own volley of web pellets at the man in black, only to have them all sliced up by the man in red and his Goemon Ishikawa XIII Tsante-Tsuken rip-off Samurai Sword.

"Ishikawa my ass, this is a fuckin' Hattori Hanzo sword." the man in red boasted, as if he'd read his thoughts, and Spider-Man patted his armored suit and replied to his fellow _Kill Bill_ lover: "We'll see if it's really a real Hattori Hanzo - - once it cuts through this, or I cut througgh you."

"Challenge accepted." The Stranger slid his gray aviator Ray-Bans on and unsheated his sword from his stick once again - - and then the true fight begun.

Laura threw herself at the Ezio girl, who immediately pulled out a ludicrpusly large schythe that would have opened her in half hadn't she parried the blow with her claws, before ducking to run under it and get in a low blow to the gut that was swiftly intercepted by the schythe's handle and parried away, with a kick to the face soon following as the girl's cackling served as the fight's only soundtrack.

"You trash around like a little monkey, don't you?" the girl cackled as Talon narrowly avoided a beheading blow and tried to snipe in for another slash, getting it parried by the girl's wrist blades and then bouncing back and forth in their very own saber dance duetto, punching, kicking, slashing, exasperated by that too-long schythe that prevented her from getting near enough to get in a good blow, and the laughter of the painted girl, that seemed to be having fun as though she was toying with a dangerous animal to keep at bay.

"*&$# you." Laura replied uncerimoniously, and caught the schythe's blade betwen her hand claws, then wrenching it away and kicking it to the ground, before swiping at the other girl with her left foot claw, swiping and missing, while the girl ducked under the blow and swooped her feet from under her, finally her wrist blades into Talon's back as she fell, neatly sliding between a rib and another to bypass the protection the adamantium bones gave the mutant, who was left to look in shock at the two blades sticking out of her chest in gory fashion, and gargled blood from her punctured lungs as she fell unconscious when her opponent removed the blades from her chest.

"The easiest bitch I've ever fucked." the girl boasted, only to scream bloody murder as her own back got slashed open.

Meanwhile, Spider-Man had been left on his own against the Stranger, whom he knew was just trying to keep him busy while his two droogs placed explosive charges around the hall...and boy was he doing a damn fine job at that, what with his Hattori Hanzo swordstick that was _really_ a Hattori Hanzo sword.

The sword couldn't cut through his armor, granted; yet it could cut through his flesh. Every blow, every nick and cut and slash and stab that the Stranger managed to get through his defense, he made damn sure he felt it all the way. He gave him bruises. He gave him marginal cuts. He gave him things that shouldn't have mattered to his mutate physiology, but made sure they were too many to bear.

He was playing with him, wearing him down, the only winning strategy the ant can play against the bear, and Jesus Christ was he doing a masterful job at that.

The stick and the sword where literally everywhere, blocking all of the Wall-Crawler's blows with deadly precision - - and when it didn't, the Stranger always found a way to get around his blows. He was unkillable, Goddammit, and seemed to have a Spider-Sense of his own, playing this like a game.

"Picture yourself as a blade." he stated, licking the blunt of the blade for blood that should have been there. "I'm the attaque au fer...the technique that breaks the blade."

"I don't break." Peter panted, on the verge of exhaustion. "Nor I bend."

"I'll show you something that does so...spectacularly." the Stranger commented, and carelessly flexed his wrist - - and his staff flexed into an overturned table. The table shattered instantly, a million shards of wood flying everywhere. The staff returned straight like a stick. "You know, baby...this piece of wood is way more flexible than you...and much more alive."

"Really? If this is a Game of Death we're playing, then it means you're the bottom-level boss of the Pagoda. But your Crow buddy doesn't look like Kareem Abdul-Jamaar one bit." Spider-Man retorted, trying to buy himself the time to think of a plan, and the Stranger laughed surprisingly good-heartedly, as if he'd found somebody that shared his love for snarky quipping. "That's right, Black Pierrot is black only in name...but Death has no Game for us to play...only the Gods do, Spider-Man."

Peter Parker, Lutheran from childhood and free-will-ist to the point of Frank Miller-ism, bristled at that. And yet, he knew the Stranger knew what he was talking about. But that was the trick. Just keep talking.

"The Gods? Gosh, I hope it's not Cthulhu the one who's got bored, after all the Dormammus and Apocalypses and Lokis. I was thinking to spend a quiet evening on a movie. Maybe ask a girl out to see the new Star Wars movie - - which means that if your Gods get around before 18 December there'll be trouble, boy if there'll be trouble. You never take the bone out of the Wookiee's mouth, as they say."

"The Gods are here right in front of ya. It's jest yer all too blind to see 'em." a weathered, chiding voice descended from where Laura and Black Pierrot's female counterpart were fighting.

And it descended right out of the mouth of a seven-feet-tall, seventy-something Native dressed like the Stranger, only in the colors of someone getting away from a funeral to descend only further - - Straight to Hell, as the great Joe Strummer said - - aiming his gun at the female criminal, who was pinned to his floor by his cowboy-booted foot pressed to her sternum. "And trust me, ya got 'em Gods really, really angry."

And just like that, he pulled the trigger.

Even before the holed-up had had time to bounce back on the floor, or before Black Pierrot had even time to get out a strangled, half-whispered "No" out of his throat, the Glock had flied to his hand faster than the human eye could see - - but the old man had been just as fast.

Another, double explosion resonated, and a spurt of red life sprayed itself out of the black-leather-coat-covered back.

"You bastard!" Jazz exploded, and promptly emptied her clips into the old man. "You really have no shame, do you? To play dress up and come back at me with his face - -"

And the guns clicked empty.

"You're dead. You're fourteen years dead. You bastard. Why have you waited all this time, to come back and kill me?" Jazz said in stubborn horror, as both Spider-Man and Talon froze in equal stupefyment, seeing the old man get back up from the shots.

"And the Man With No Name just repeated: 'Aim at the heart, Ramòn! Aim at the heart!'." the Stranger quoted in an unnatural deadpan, and then burst out laughing - - and then, out of the blue, slammed the flat of his blade into Spider-Man's nose, catching him off-guard and sending him to the floor, seeing stars, roaring: "COME ON! WHERE'S THE BLOOD?! SHOW ME THE GODDAMN BLOOD!"

"Don't tempt me, or I might could make ya haply, Stranger." the man trained his gun on him. "I'm just here to say hello to Linda, and prevent you from making a carnage."

"Screw the hello, I want a damn goodbye, and a definitive one at that." Jazz bristled and put a gun to his head at the name he'd called her with.

"You can't prevent us from killing everyone. All exits are barred." Black Pierrot coughed, shakily getting back up, his wound healed, and sneered at the guests, half-shouting, half-declaring: "Every door and window is wired to the charges so that the slightest touch will set them off and set the place ablaze. We can't die, as you saw, 'cause we're already dead. You people killed us. You sold us to corporations and nailed us on crosses and beat us to a pulp in back alleys and shot us on the firing range and then conveniently forgot abou. We're gonna kill you all so that you can find the guts to _remember_ _and hunt us down_ _and kill us for good._ And this will happen, yes it will happen, because no one can get out of here."

"No one kills anyone," Laura coldly threatened, holding her claws to the goth girl(who had recovered like her older twin)'s throat. "Or I kill this bitch before you can even move a muscle."

"Talon, that's not the w - -" Peter began to dissuade her, but Laura bit back: "Shut up, Web-Head. I've had enough of all these little games. I'm finishing this ss soon as they make a wrong move. In fact, they better hurry up, because my claws are itching."

"Why bother?" the old man shrugged. "No one can get out and no one dies. And no one's right here in this room."

And then, as if on cue, the room was empty.

But it'd been full of people up to a moment before.

And all exits were still barred.

It just HAPPENED.

"Fine, if that's the way you wanna put it," Black Pierrot shifted his aim from the old man's head to Laura's - - holding a sawed-off shotgun this time. The most powerful gun on Earth, as Inspector Harry Callahan had so nicely put it. "Get your dirty claws off my Shade."

"Forget that and go screw a dog. Or, even worse, Peace Girl right next to you."

"Now now kids," the old man chided, training his guns on the explosive charges. "There's a Starman's in the Sky, and he's told us not to blow it - - 'cause he knows it's all wortwhile."

"Screw it." Black Pierrot replied, and then turned to Laura, stating: "Kimura says Hi."

The shot rang out like a tank exploding, and Laura's face was blasted away as Shade got free of her hold. Peter shot out like a whip before the shot even found its mark, but Stranger's blade got him back on the floor. The old man, on his part, coldly replied at that: "John Dark says hi, too."

And then everything blew up.

 **-Line Break-**

The Armor cracked in far more many spots than he'd like to admit, Peter Parker web-zipped away from the wreckage, an unconscious Laura under his arm...or at least, he would have had the old man not barred his path, still alive and well, and even more furious than before. Peter saw the fires of war in his burning dark eyes, fires eating the Vietnamese jungle and Indian camps.

"It's best if y'don't get involved, Parker. There's only room for two Players in the Game - and I've sworn to someone I wouldn't let any more good people get harmed."

"What - What game are you talking about?" Peter stammered, and the man turned to leave. He got out a golden pocket watch, turned the arms on it, and just blinked out of existance. Yet, his last words still echoed in Peter's ears.

 _The only Game that has ever really been played. The only Game that will ever be played. The only Game that's being played right now. The only Game you don't ever wanna be part of._

 _The Game of Gods._

These were the words, but Peter did not care. He had more important things to think of, right now...namely, Laura. Because if old Logan knew that he'd gotten her hurt and that he'd just called him 'old'...

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Not much to say...just hope you'll review this chapter, if you've liked it and my endless quoting of David Bowie material - - it's just that his stuff is so good - - so I hope you did, because it will help me improve my story, constructive criticism in particular!**


	4. Chapter 4

**D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Hello and welcome again to my humble abode - er, sorry, I mean, to a brand new(ly revised) chapter of Spider-Man: Game of Gods!**

 **How have things been treatin' ya?**

 **While you take your time to answer the question, I'll submit the same question to our heroes...**

 **...On with the Story, then!**

 **Chapter Four: The Morning After**

 _The morning after, duh. -.-"_

 _"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!_

 _We don't need no education_

 _We don't need no thought control,"_

"Would you please turn that damn thing off?!" Laura shrieked, and Peter chuckled from the bathroom: "I was beginning to wonder when you'd wake up."

 _"Hey, teachers! Leave 'em kids alone! - *"_

"Turn. That. Thing. Off." Laura grit her teeth, clutching her head in pain, and Peter came stumbling out of the toilet, with only a pair of baggy pants on and a towel around his neck, face half-shaved and half-covered in foam, the razor sticking to his face due to his Spider-powers, going straight to turn off Pink Floyd's _Another Brick In The Wall (Part 2)._

"Sorry, it's just that you'd been asleep for hours...and I thought Pink Floyd music wouldn't disturb you so much, since they ain't nowhere near as noisy as AC/DC or Bad Religion, and sorry I'm rambling, but...whatcha starin' at?" at the older man's question, Laura immediately tore her gaze from his muscled chest and the scars that littered it, and growled: "Nothing. Whatever. Why am I in your apartment, Parker? I demand an explaination, and it better be a good one."

"You-you don't remember what happened the other night?" Peter frowned, and then looked away. "Jesus Christ only knows what I'd give to be in your place..."

"What. Happened?" she punctuated her words with a feral growl once again, and once again Peter had to put his hands up in defense. "Calm down, please. You've just regenerated from a shotgun to the face and you had four separate attacks of PTSD. Luckyly I managed to calm you down, but you went really crazy." Peter explained, and only then Laura realized that the few bandages on Peter's chest were wrapped around the cuts she'd given him with her claws.

"Sorry I hurt you." she apologized, looking down and rubbing her arm, but Peter tranquilized her. "Nah, it's fine. Your Pop's done far worse, besides."

"So, um...what happened to the guys who we fought last night?" she then asked, and Peter scratched the back of his head: "Some old man pretty much pulled a Reservoir Dogs Mexican Standoff quoting Ziggy Stardust and made all the hostage vanish."

"Vanish?"

"One minute they were there, the next they weren't. I thought I was going crazy for a moment, and then found out he could teleport. Anyway, the place blew up - - but the Murder Crew managed to get out of there alive."

"Those bastards managed to escape?"

"Yes?..." Peter gulped, and Laura growled: "And why didn't you go after them, then?"

"Well _sorry_ if I decided to help an injured comrade instead." he bit back, to which Laura scoffed. "But," and here he put up a finger and smirked: "I managed to put a Spider-Tracer on one of them, the Fifty Shades of Red guy, Stranger, who I'm sure was human."

"What do you mean?"

"He was pretty insane, and I'd put my money on that fact, if asked how he was almost able to overwhelm me. Sheer savagery or downright insanity can sometimes outrun even my Spider-Sense. The old man was no different."

"Yeah...who the Hell were those guys?"

"The Crow siblings looked Asian. I'd reckon they probably were part of the Weapon X program, from their low regenerating factor, and their knowledge of your old enemy...Kimura." Peter carefully said, and Laura growled at the mention of her old torturer. "Jazz and Stranger's skin color was white yet tending to red and both were well-built despite the slenderness, like the old man. Possibly had Native American, but of that I can be sure only for the old man. He also looked to know Jazz very well, and called her Linda: could they be relatives?"

"It's a possibility. They fought like me and Logan on the average day." Laura commented, then adding: "The old man. When he saved me and shot Shade, he gave off this vibe. He...he felt like Logan."

"Yeah, they both have the bad habit of scarin' the piss of those who intrude in their jobs." Peter chuckled, and Laura rolled her eyes. "Not that. What I mean is that he felt like someone who could flip at a moment's notice and gut everyone around."

"Like a war veteran!" Peter snapped his fingers. "People like Punisher, Logan...they've all got that characteristic in common. And the old man had, too. When I looked into his eyes it felt like I'd been thrown into Vietnam. That restricts the circle."

"Wonderful. We can go kick some asses then, we've wasted enough time." Laura got off the bed, but then clutched her head in pain and stumbled, almost falling to the ground; luckyly Peter was there to catch her. "Whoah! Where are you going? You are in no condition to fight, Laura. You took a pretty mean blow last night, both physically and mentally."

"Don't care - I wanna gut those bastards, find out how they know Kimura - - gonna finally kill that bitch - - "

" - -Yes, but not now." Peter put his arms around her shoulders, and Laura went on to trash wildly into them some more, but then she just groaned and let herself fall into the embrace.

"Okay." she meekly conceded, and Peter made her sit on the bed again. "Don't worry. I know how you feel. But understand this...it's no use to rush in blindly when you're so angry. I-I learned this the hard way. Many times over. You-you have no idea how many times I wanted to kill Osborn, or Octavius. And all of them, it almost cost me my life. You're still young, Laura. I don't want to see you jump into the gunfight and get killed like I did oh so many time just because I was angry."

"I'd get up again if I were shot; you wouldn't. So why do you keep worrying about me?" Laura mumbled, looking down. Peter sighed, and lifted her chin up so he could look at her in the eye. "Before I promised you, remember? I promised you you'd become a hero, the best of the best. And...yes, you were right yesterday evening when saying I'm attracted to you. But I also value you as something more, far more, and that sure as Hell means that I won't let anybody hurt you again, got it?"

Laura nodded, and hugged Peter so tight he felt his ribs getting crushed. "Clingy, ain't we?" Peter chuckled embarassedly as he returned the embrace. "Man, why do I always have to be an awkward dork?"

"Because you _are_ an awkward dork." Laura smiled into his chest, and Peter beamed a megawatt smile. "Hey, you made a joke! Guess my special training has finally began to work, eh?"

"Maybe."

 **-Line Break-**

"You know, a hotdog was the first thing I ate when I first got to New York." Laura commented as Peter as she munched on the saucy treat Peter had bought her as they walked through Times Square. "Really?" Peter raised an eyebrow as he took a bite from his own hotdog.

"Yeah. Kiden bought hotdogs for all three of us, me, her and Cat, with the first money she got since we three came together."

"You miss them." Peter pointed out, and Laura nodded. "I kinda know how you feel...you remember that red-haired Harry guy bugging me at the party?"

"Yeah?"

"He's my best friend. Been that since we were kids. We had our own gang. It was me, him, Mary Jane, and...Gwen. For the longest time I can remember, they were my only friends. But we sure as Hell were inseparable. We were all that mattered to each other, us four. We didn't have the most normals of families...so, in more than one way we became each other's family. Kinda like you and the girls. And then..."

"And then?"

"And then Gwen died and we blew it." Peter finished the hotdog and threw the paper into a nearby bin. "I miss those times too, but right now...Amen with that. We go work to do."

"Right. Where do we start from, then?" Laura asked, getting into business-mode, and Peter pointed to his left. "Hell's Kitchen's that way and it's Daredevil's territory. It's also where the 'Tracer stopped working. My plan is to ask him if he's seen them around. And since Peter Parker is friends with Matt Murdock, what suspicions can we arise?"

"But...he's blind."

"And that's what most people say before he _literally_ hands them their asses on a silver platter. Guy's a freakin' ninja. A _Catholic_ ninja. As if the world couldn't get any more like a Frank Miller comic."

 **-Line Break-**

"Four people, you say." the blind lawyer commented as all three were sitting at Starbuck's, where Peter had insisted in treating the Lawyer a coffee and Laura a hot chocolate. "Yep. Girl was wounded and bleeding, mother hen was a punk gunslinger, leader was a Heath Ledger impersonator, and the guy I put the 'Tracer on was dressed in smart red suits like you only that he had the largest grin ever and felt like freakin' Nyarlathothep."

"And they gave you a hard time?" Murdock raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief, and Peter groaned: "Don't remind me, mate."

"Can happen to the best of us, Peter." Murdock sat back and slurped his Macchiato. "To answer your question, however, I fear I can be of little assistance...I have indeed met this 'Stranger' you put the tracer on in Hell's Kitchen...but he was alone. The group had to have separated earlier on."

"You...met him?"

"Yes. I was on patrol and casually found him impaling a common thug on his cane. Through the head, all the way to the balls."

"Ouch."

"Yes. We had a little confrontation, he was extremely fast, and adopted a rather savage way of fighting I'd say. He managed to escape the fight and I lost him in the subway, but...this fell off him." the lawyer explained, showing the scientist a small, red spider-themed gadget.

"But this...this is a Spider-Tracer. Latest Parker Industries model actually."

"Indeed? I am sorry, then. It's my fault if it got knocked off him in the fight."

"Ah, leave it. Still, this takes us to square one." Peter sat back and groaned, but Laura shook her head and turned at Murdock: "Are there any ways out of the galleries between each station?"

"If you're speaking about service exits, I checked them out and...he didn't use them. He just _vanished._ " Murdock explained, and Peter joked: "That or he can stick to the ceiling and was trolling you all the time."

"Trolling?" frowned Laura, and Peter looked at her in disbelief, declaring: "...I am totally taking you out for a movie when this is all over."

 **-Line Break-**

The top floor of the Alchemax Tower, Manhattan.

Norman Osborn, A.K.A The Original Goblin, was not a happy man, and this time he couldn't put the blame on the recent return of his sanity. No, the reason for this were the rather shocking front page news of the _Bugle_ : he couldn't believe that Spider-Man, his ancient nemesis, had gotten owned by a bunch of thugs with no powers.

While of course as an enemy of the Wall-Crawler he liked to see a devastating blow being dealt to the hero's ego, news of a 'new crew in town' were bad for any villain out to protect his turf, and that category included him.

He decided it was best to call Alchemax's appointed CEO, Liz Allen, and oversee preparations for - -

"Needin' someone, old man?" a cackle froze him and he looked up only to see the elevator doors opening and revealing the same 'new crew in town' he was so worried about.

"Isn't Halloween in two months?" he stood up sarcastically remarked as he stuck his hands in his pockets and weighed his opinions. He was out of the suit, but he could still call the glider from its secret casing under the floor by pressing a button on the remote in his left trouser pocket. Still, that would give them ample time to shoot him on the spot. Great God, how he missed being the Director of H.A.M.M.E.R. or even Iron Patriot for that matter. "I've seen you guys on the paper. You caused quite the ruckus last night, didn't you?"

"Flatterer." Black Pierrot commented, before lifting his rifle at Osborn. "Corruptor. Murderer. Maniac. Terrorist. Kingpin. And the list just goes on, Mr. Osborn...I have enough bullets to tip off each charge from the list one bullet a charge, Mr. Osborn, and that would be the easy way out."

"Are you just here to kill me?" Osborn queried, and Shade shrugged: "Your dearest CEO, Liz Allen, was kind enough to leave us a pen-drive with all of Alchemax's secrets for us to sell around, so we'll just move on to your execution."

"Ah, but don't you mean _your_ execution?" Osborn smirked, and immediately the Goblin glider flew out of the pavement, its dual machine gun firing madly at the group. The only one slow enough not to dodge was Stranger, but that was a deliberate move - - in fact, the man took out his sword, parried all the bullets, and then precisely thrusting it with deadly precision into one of the two dual engines of the weapon, jamming it and leaving it to be quickly taken out by an anti-tank bullet from Jazz's D. Eagle. "Are you done?" the gunslinger asked, and Osborn smirked, pressing another button. "Not quite. Don't underestimate me. There ought to be a reason if I've managed to live this long."

Immediately the glider released a dozen pumpkin blades that impaled the two saboteurs respectively in the leg and into the shoulder, and Osborn used the distraction to pull an experimental pair of ion discharge guns - aiming them directly at Pierrot and Shade's heads. "Now, you'll hand over the pendrive."

"What, _this_ pen-drive?" a voice said from behind the scientist - who dared look back only to be grabbed by the neck from behind and be thrown through the window, plummeting to the ground for two hundred stories.

"That was uncalled for, Stranger." Black Pierrot coldly stated. "I intended to execute him for his crimes."

"And instead he's street pizza.~" Shade sing-sang, while Stranger paid no heed to Pierrot's berating, and plopped himself on Osborn's chair, playing with the pen-drive. "THAT'S how you kill someone, Blackie. No epic speech, no trash talk, no wisecracks. And the higher the height they fall from, the less likely they are to get back up."

"Careful, Stranger. Acting against my orders again might not be the smartest way to act." the leader warned his subordinate, and then regarded the others. "This place is full of corrupt businessmen, cowardly coworkers, ruthless scientists, and mass destruction weaponry and lethal secrets ready to be capitalized and sold to the highest bidder. You know what we gotta do."

"Affirmative, Pierrot." Jazz grabbed Osborn's rather large guns and grinned under the bandana. "Burn it, burn it to the ground."

"In the 'no survivors' way or the 'show 'em who's the new boss in town'?" Stranger grinned, and Pierrot took out a bomb. "Alchemax is responsible for thousands of deaths and has committed unspeakable crimes that would make us look like lambs. It's the perfect place to send a message from." Pierrot explained, as the group made its way to the doors of the office.

"No." Stranger grinned at the rapidly-approaching red and blue blur from out of the window. "You can go and have your fun, Blackie. I'll be having _company_."

D. The Wanderer's Author Rant

CLIFFHANGER! Will our heroes manage to stop the Murder Crew from destroying the Alchemax Tower? Or will Stranger hold them off long enough for his comrades to tear the tower apart? And now that Norman Osborn is dead, what will become of the Goblin legacy? Discover these things - and many more - in future chapters! In the meantime, just PLEASE READ, REVIEW & RECOMMEND!


	5. Chapter 5

**D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Hello, and welcome to another chapter of the Game of Gods. Sorry if the last chapter I posted was so short, but I had a serious case of writer's block and I wanted to get my Norman Osborn and Matt Murdock cameos done as soon as possible. And sorry if I killed off the _Green Goblin_ himself in just a few lines, but I _really_ hate the guy (not as a character), and since his death was instrumental to the Murder Crew's agenda (because the rule of every good criminal is to get your rivals out of the way as soon as possible, and do it swift and make it permanent. And I doubt even not-so-good ol' Normie can survive a 150-story drop, even with his latent healing factor. So...**

 **...On with the Story, then!**

 **Chapter Five: Terrorism Transactions**

"We meet again, arachnid." Stranger said politely as Spider-Man and Talon finally landed in front of him, the wall-crawler deadpanning: "Huh. About time someone finally realized spiders ain't bugs. You know, man, I could make you a statue for this."

"You can do that in the afterlife, if you really want." Stranger grinned madly and whipped out his swordstick, lunging straight at the couple with a silent scream of madness etched onto his face like a second skin. His katana clashed against Laura's claws, but surprisingly did not break. "The fuck?" Laura gasped in shocked surprise, but Stranger mock-tutted: "Language, young lady."

"Who ya callin' young? You're not even two or three years older than me!" Laura snarled, and pushed him back, with Spidey launching a relentless barrage of web bullets, but the bloodied gentleman sliced all of them in a thousand pieces at an impressive speed, with the webhead chuckling awkwardly: "Okay, we got a Goemon Ishikawa XIII here. Now where's Lupin III and the rest of the gang, bro?"

"Take a guess, BRO." Stranger answered with cold sarcasm, swinging back at Laura and forcing her on the defensive with his inhuman speed, keeping both the Talon and the Spider at bay, hard-pressing them with an ease he managed to get seemingly with his mere _presence_. He could perhaps strike people as the most normal-looking of his 'Crew', but in reality he was the most insane, crazier than all of them combined, and you could almost _feel_ the madness radiating from his indifferent face or his ear-splitting grin, feel it haunting you, seeping through your bones and turning the marrow inside them into ice, like a methastasis spreading, the cancer he was infecting you without the most remote possibility of finding a cure.

And _that_ was what drove both Laura and Peter back, every single time they tried to go for a shot or found an opening, a craziness that drove his own opponents crazy. He was unpredictable. You could never know what he was thinking, and neither could he.

"This is getting pointless!" Talon spat, snarling at the swordsman. "We know all too well you're a distraction, so that your friends can cause more harm undisturbed, just like at Horizon University!"

"It's that old superhero cliché again. Fight the bad guy or save the innocents. Except no one working for Alchemax is innocent, and you know it, or you wouldn't be still here instead of trying to stop the impending demolition." Stranger brought the sword to his lips, to lick the arachnicd's blood his blade would have drawn if not for the suit, but said arachnid stopped him with a webline. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. My blood's kinda canceroginous. Y'know, having been bitten by a radioactive spider and all that jazz."

"Cancer's an old friend." the criminal chuckled, but before he could cut the web with his blade, the Wall-Crawler yanked the steely silk cable without holding back any of his superhuman strenght, Stranger getting propelled into the air and right into the path of Talon's clawed fist. And yet, he'd somehow managed to predict that, using the momentum to propel himself into the girl's stomach-crashing right through the window and breaking into the sky.

Spider-Man, on his part, swore a bit too loudly for a superhero, and dived after them, dragged by the other two falling bodies to his impending (and frankly, rather probably overtime) doom. He'd calculated that it would take the two almost a whole minute to reach the ground - - and after that, only Laura would get back up, while _nothing_ would remain of Stranger...and of the possibility of discovering the plans of the Murder Crew. Maybe just a spot of blood on the asphalt...if he was lucky.

He managed to surpass the pair roughly twenty seconds before they could hit the ground, and then his webline reached its maximum lenght, and three seconds later all three of them slammed through a window, Laura unfortunately getting almost all the brunt of the impact as she was the first of them to crash to the window, Stranger first landing onto her and then rolling away, with Peter ending up roughly five or six feet away from them both, cringing. That was _so_ going to hurt in the morning.

"Did we make it?" winced Laura as she got up, waryly eyeing the K.O.'ed Stranger.

"He's only human." nodded Peter, coming to crash next to her. "Thus the impact has been worse on him than on us."

"Better wake him up, then. Otherwise we're never gonna learn of his friends' plans." she leaned down to slap the assassin into awakeness - - but all she ended up doing was to cough blood all over his shirt, pressed hard against him, a dagger lodged into her abdomen, with Stranger seething into her ear. "Never. Underestimate. Me. Ever. Again."

"Lau - Talon!" Spider-Man cried, and threw himself at the assassin, who merely threw the dagger at him. Of course, Peter was able to evade the projectile thanks to his Spider-Sense, but surprisingly just that managed to delay him long enough for Stranger to get his stick out again as people ran in fear from the scene, and whack him away like an irritated person swatted a fly in the heat of September. "You may call us criminals, arachnid - but compared to the people who work for Alchemax, we're just little lambs...little screaming lambs...screaming in the sound of silence."

In any other occasion, Peter would have just made a snarky remark or a sarcastic joke at the oh so poetic words Stranger had spoken or at the bitter message conveyed into the deadpan tone of the criminal's voice, but right now he just wanted to bash his face in with his knuckles and watch the blood splatter all over the floor. Stranger felt this, and grinned, as if he'd got exactly what he wanted. And when Spider-Man pinned him to the floor, he did not resist. And when Spider-Man raised his fist to wipe that stupid grin out of his face, Stranger just did him the ultimate trolling.

He tilted his head to the side in order to avoid a punch so powerful it tore straight through the floor, shattering its already damaged structural integrity and ripping a hole in it so big that it began to crumble, ripping away Stranger's binding as the inoxydable steel let out an ear-piercing death-cry, all three of them falling to the floor below, as Stranger stabbed the arachnid in the stomach with a blade so sharp that could cut through freakin' kevlar - - but given that the arachnid had the Armor on, the suit wasn't breached, and he was thrown away, the flesh already ruptured and bleeding internally under the skin.

"You bastard!" Peter cried in pain as Stranger used his falling body to propel himself on what remained of the upper floor by double-kicking the hero right on his stab wound. The wallcrawler tried to grab him with a webline, but before he could, he was slammed to the ground by a devastating blow to the head.

 _Ow_ , he muttered as he let himself get sprawled on the tiled floor of the Alchemax building's lobby, and silently thanked his spider-powers-induced increased durability, because, if he'd been a normal human, the flat of the blade would have crushed his skull to little bloody pieces and a few splotches of grey, squishy brain matter. Which, he reasoned, could still happen, as he was kicked in the teeth so hard than he was rolled onto his back. Gritting his thankfully-still-intact teeth in pain, he tried to get up, but crashed to the floor again, his sense of balance competely gone

And as he was so uncomfortably sprawled on the floor, he managed to see the other members of the Murder Crew, each with a cell phone in their hands, minus Jazz. "This is most definitely going on SnapChat, isn't it?" he dryly commented, but the girl version of Ezio chuckled with mirth as she leant down on him.

"No, silly, although your blind fury moment would have made a million views on YouTube, but...you're no Rutger Hauer or Daredevil, so you'll have to make do with the Murder Crew's upcoming new, explosive, literally lockbusting movie: Alchemax goes out with a bang!"

"Two bangs, to be fair. But even if one would have sufficed...we like to do things in style." Black Pierrot conceded as he glided forward, seemingly weightless despite his heavy boots, and Spidey understood the two cell phones were both detonators that could each set off a bomb capable of leveling the tower. "How many?"

"You want to know how many people will die? We estimate about a thousand." Black Pierrot answered, and Jazz counted. "Probably less than half of that number. This isn't a busy day, and they've had and will have enough time to escape...even if one of the biggest simbols of America's dollarocracy will be reduced to nothing but a handful of ash."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Black Pierrot questioned, leaning down, and Spider-Man repeated, his voice tired and seemingly devoid of any energy: "Why do people always have to die, for a statement to be made?"

"Statement?" Black Pierrot's voice trembled with fury, his cold exterior seemingly gone. "You have no idea what Alchemax does to people...what it did to us!"

"Normie is dead, and I'm even thanking you for that. He was he who was behind Alchemax. Why kill everyone else too?"

"No atrocities would have been committed, had Osborn not had the people to do so for him. Instruments of Evil are as guilty as the mind using them." Black Pierrot countered, and a cold, mirthless sound escaped from the web-head's lips, a haunting sound, coming from the King of Bad Humor himself: "Then kill me too, and you better not miss-for if I survive the demolition you won't escape alive."

"Of course we will, you silly little itty bitty spider. We're not some dumb cocky supercriminals. We know how to cover our asses." Shade giggled, kicking the still-unconscious Laura so she'd roll onto her back. "You and the Wolvie-bitch. I took that slash personally, you know."

"No."

Everyone turned to stare in disbelief at Stranger, who turned at them and explained, calmly: "The Game can't go on if you kill them."

"Again with this gibberish?" Shade complained, and Jazz dryly commented: "You call it gibberish, yet every time he talks about 'the Game' he's got it right."

"The Game is coming to its End, but for it to do so, they must stay alive." Stranger repeated, and Black Pierrot reiterated: "You killed Osborn yourself. What's different?"

"Osborn's death was relevant to the End of the Game, just like their survival is."

"They'll come after us, and even this 'Game' precognition of yous won't stop them."

"It won't. But something will. Trust me, it's not precognition...it's just trust." he smirked cheekily, tapping his right temple, and Black Pierrot regarded him coolly. Meanwhile, Spider-Man was trying to use this sudden distraction to formulate a plan, but quickly found out he couldn't: Stranger's words had nagged him so deeply he couldn't take his mind off them. Yet, he couldn't waste time on contemplation. He had to _act_.

Meanwhile.

"This is getting pointless!" shouted Shade, taking her schythe out. "I'm killing the bitch anywa - " she didn't have time to finish the sentence as the 'bitch' in question kicked her in the back, making her slam face-first on the floor.

"No one calls me a bitch." she hissed, unsheating her claws, and as the other criminals turned at her, she was instantly ready to plunge her claws into Shade's troath. But... "Don't."

"Why?" she glared up at her teacher, but the webhead simply replied: "You asked me to teach you to become better than those you're fighting. I'm just doing my job."

Laura looked down, a tinge of red on her pale cheeks, and then retracted her claws... before punching Shade in the face. "Whatever you say, coach." she smirked at Spidey, who just nodded, and then the two of them broke into battle stances, ready to start fighting back. Black Pierrot simply watched the scene, and then his thumb fell on the dial and the explosions started...

...or at least, that's what would have happened, hadn't the remote been snatched away from his hand by a webline from above and shattered against the wall.

"Sorry, mate, it's just that I can't let you do that," a figure clad in blue with red lines and spikes chuckled from the ceiling, where he calmly sat: "You know, I WORK here. Or used to do so, up to fifteen minutes ago."

"What the Hell - two of you?" asked Black Pierrot as Spider-Man 2099 tagged his rifle with a webline. But Black Pierrot was in no mood for jokes, and hated being underestimated. So he gripped the gun tightly with both hands, and PULLED, bringing Spider-Man 2099 off the ceiling. And quite frankly, the Miguel O' Hara under that mask, had already had enough of waiting. His knuckles were tingling. Aching, even. The barrage of bullets from Black Pierrot he paid no mind to, his Spider-Sense allowing him to flawlessly evade it. He had been so close to finding out the truth he'd come to this era to find...so close... and those criminals had stolen those very secrets that could help him prevent 2099's New York from turning into a horrible, Alchemax-ruled dystopia. "Where is that shocking pen-drive?!"

"What pen-drive?!"

"The one you stole from Osborn, you retard! I saw the CCTV recordings, and I NEED that pen-drive!"

"It's not for sale, sorry." Black Pierrot smiled, and then head-butted the meta-human, breaking free of his grip and grabbing his shotgun. " Not yet at least."

Cue point-blank range shotgun shot.

"You don't get it." Miguel O' Hara coldly stated, grabbing the bullet in his right hand even if the shot had been at point-blank range. "I'm gonna take that pen-drive, and I don't care what I have to do to you to get it."

Cue point-blank - - oh, this is just getting pointless, Blacky.

"Yeah, this is getting pointless." declared agreeingly the superhero, grabbing the bullet once again, advancing at the criminal again - - and grabbing the shotgun by the barrel.

"Give up." Miguel barked, but before he could argue his point any further, the Black Pierrot ducked under his arm and stuck his knife into his gut, before delivering an elbow to his chin a knee to the groin, before finally throwing Spider-Man 2099 on his back with a backhand punch. "Pointless indeed. You should stop bitching about the pen-drive and worry about the other detonator, hero."

"Y-you don't get it." Miguel spat blood, as he angrily tried to sit up. "A thousand people may or may not die today, but if you don't give me thata pendrive, millions will perish in the future!"

"You're really something. You'd sacrifice a thousand lives to save millions more?" Black Pierrot mocked him, knife still in hand, and Miguel took out his stingers. "Yours fore sure."

And with that, he struck, his movements too fast for the human eye to register -

"Miguel! No!"

\- but not for the arachnid one.

And behold, Miguel O' Hara's arm stood still, straining to move despite the web of the Original Spider-Man. "I'm not going to let you do that."

"Not you too, Peter. I need the information. I need it." one Spider-Man pleaded to the other, and Black Pierrot caught the opportunity to casually walk away from the scene, yes sir, caught it on the fly, he did. "We'll find it, Miguel. Even if they sell it. I'll get everyone I know to help. But right now we gotta keep this place from falling down all over our heads and become another 9/11."

You could pretty much say that the serious one (on the job, at least) of the two was O' Hara, and had always been. But the sheer seriousness in Peter Parker's tone in that moment was something that would have made Nick Fury SR. himself look like a clown, and was perhaps best contained in his single mention of 9/11. Because this fight at Alchemax was very close to creating another massacre like the one Peter Parker had spent countless nights yelling at himself for being unable to prevent. He'd been New York's superhero for over a year, then. Its sole superhero. And all the same he had let _thousands_ of those same people die in a Hell of screaming steel and exploding glass.

And God damn him if he was going to let that happen again, almost fourteen years later. And Miguel knew that.

"Okay." he conceded at last, before hardening back. "But after that, they're mine."

"Deal." the senior Spider-Man nodded, before adding: "Except for the bastard in red. That one is mine. He hurt Laura."

"I can take care of myself pretty well already, thank you." the feral girl growled, before slashing Bone's staff in two (seriously, she thought, how could the giant still walk, with a broken ankle and a probable head concussion, given that he was only human), kicking and slashing at his legs repeatedly until delivering a final blow to the face that made him fall over onto Shade, thus trapping the smaller woman under the massive thug.

"Okay, that's enough, I think you're proven your point, honey." Peter quipped as Talon stood there, fuming, and at Miguel's puzzled look he replied awkwardly: "We're still on the road up to first base. Kinda."

"Just don't let this one die." Miguel replied with a huff, before swinging away to find Black Pierrot - only to fall to the debris-covered floor rather anticlimatically as his webline was shredded by a well-aimed bullet. "Lady," the half-Latino arachnid addressed Jazz dryly, getting up and facing down the twin barrels of her 44. Magnums, "I can see every possible outcome of each and every one of the actions you make, so don't bother with this shit and just _piss off_ so I can find your Heath Ledger-themed boyfriend and kick his ass."

"If you can really see so far, can you see how long will it take for the building to collapse?" Jazz asked, then shrugged: "I'd like to know when I should get out of here."

"What are you - -" Miguel managed to say, before his Spider-Sense exploded, and he almost perfectly mirrored Peter as they both shouted at the top of their lungs: "RUN!"

The explosion - - only one, thankfully - - was deafening, but the screaming - - and not just that of the steel structure of the building - - were something nightmares were made of.

Immediately the spiders rushed to the site of the damage, weaving a giant double web to trap all of the rubble into one place, as their muscles strained and their web-shooters emptied in trying to keep the building from collapsing. But the structural integrity of the skyscraper had already been damaged, and it seemed that there was nothing the two Spiders could do to keep the carnage from happening.

Then, as their knees bent and their arms were that close to breaking, everything stopped.

Laura had positioned herself in what used to be the center of mass of the building, right between the two Spider-Men, supporting the weight that they couldn't support.

"Let me tell ya this, bro," Miguel breathed out once they'd secured the building with enough web-fluid to hold the Titanic and the authorities FINALLY started to arrive, "You got one heck of a girlfriend."

"I told ya it's complicated," Peter commented, then added: "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna faint."

-Line Break-

"You are late." the woman said without as much as glancing at the Murder Crew from their booth.

"We were held up by two different Spiders, instead of just one like you'd assured us."

"Well, that's your problem. You have two different wall-crawlers hot on your tails as of now...which makes our deal even more risky by now." the woman's lips curled into a smile, half-hidden by a cascade of platinum-blonde hair. "You'll have to sweeten it, so that the Cat won't purr about it to the wrong ears."

"Listen up, bitch, we literally sweat blood to steal those projects from Alchemax and get out of there alive- -" Shade protested, and all the other criminals in the Cat's nightclub turned to look at her.

"That was unwise." commented Jazz, laying a heavy hand on Shade's shoulder. "But she's right. We best either comply or we will not get out of HERE alive."

"And we're on the top wanted list right now, after all!" Stranger commented, from the pool table he'd nonchalantly butted in, using his own (sword)stick. "Don't forget we killed the G-R-E-E-N G-O-B-L-I-N."

"You killed Spidey's sworn nemesis?" now the Black Cat was interested. "And lived to tell the tale? How did you even manage that?"

"Oh, an open window and a hundred-and-a-half story drop did just fine." Stranger shrugged, before jumping from that table to the one the Cat and the Murder Crew were sitting at, staring at the crime lady with his unblinking and unsettling burning grey eyes, as if reading her, as if reading her outcome, as if she too was just a pawn on a board, to him, with her own little board with her own little pawns on it. "Perhaps a bowl of milk will do just fine too, when it comes to you. And a talon. In the foot. A feral girl monkey in the wrench. A curious jealousy or a jealous curiosity? Maybe the latter...after all, curiosity killed the Cat."

"And what killed the moron?" the Cat asked unnervedly, as all her henchmen shifted their guns to the madman sitting on the table.

"Only what didn't make him Stranger." Stranger laughed, then shifted his attention on the closest henchman, a raven-haired woman perhaps one year older than the Cat, with a red bandana covering the lower half of her face and a black-and-blue spider-themed costume. "And you're new, isn't it? You're Silk. What is this, Spider-Man's Ex-Girlfriends' Club?"

"You are either very stupid or very much seeking suicide to spit such inslults in here." the Cat commented, and Stranger amended: "Or perhaps just plain crazy and wanting our payment."

"I've already told you, the deal is riskier now. You'll have to sweeten it."

"Well, let's see. There's that other Spider-Man."

"What of him?"

"He was an Alchemax employee. And the first Spider called him 'Miguel.'"

"Oh, a pretty useless clue to a superhero's identity?" The Cat outright mocked them. "You'll have to do better than that. Which means there's still- -"

"- -No need for that." that last sentence made everyone turn their heads at the speaker, because when it was uttered, the temperature of the room dropped fifty degrees. "I'll take care of the exceedings in the expenses. So, for now, the youngsters are free to go."

The speaker was a sixty-five-year-old man standing as tall as Stranger, but far more ominous and imposing. He was dressed all in black, with a long black leather coat and black Terminator sunglasses. He made his way to the table where the transaction was being negotiated without any resistance by the other criminals in the room, his grey hair flopping lightly over his temples.

"Who are you?" Shade quizzed, her hand traveling to her schythe as the old man deigned her and her companions of only one look.

"Someone dead and dying." the old man replied laconically, and the Cat mused with a smile: "Indeed the legend has risen from the grave."

"Only to return to it soon." the old man replied politely. "The kids are free to go. I have something to discuss with you."

"As you say." the Cat glanced at Silk, and she showed the Murder Crew their way out, as the old man sat where they'd sat, opposite Felicia. "So what it is that you want to discuss with me? Are you planning a sudden resurgence and have come to reclaim your throne?"

"None of this. I lost no throne. If Wilson Fisk has the control of all the city's dealings, it is because I want him to. But you see...the world needs a shock. One that, I hope, can beat my little show at the Twin Towers fourteen years ago. You see, those kids...they're amateurs, compared to me, but they're...interesting. They come into play, and when it's time to play...it's gonna be fun, so utterly _fun_. And of course, you come into play, too."

"How?"

"Well, let's see." the old man said, leaning back on his chair, his expression so damn inviting. "How'd you like it to take Wilson Fisk's place?"

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **So, fanfictioners, how are you all doing? If the answer is 'not particularly happy', I can guess it's due to' the length of a chapter which was already far too late for my liking. But have no fear, the next one will be shorter, much shorter, and hopefully it will come out a lot sooner. In the meantime please take care of yourselves - and don't forget to leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**D. the Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **And here is, finally, the new chapter (rewritten, of course). Hope it** **fares better than the original one, so please get...**

 **...On with the Story, then!**

 **Chapter Six: Poor Detective Work and Hidden Death-Wishes**

 _Hell's Kitchen_

A spider sat with a talon on one side of the table.

His twin shared the other with a devil, so he guessed the other shouldn't really have been complaining.

And indeed he wasn't, but his twin was complaining enough for the whole fucking foursome.

"We lost them. We lost them like shocking amateurs, and now they've got every info, every project, every secret of Alchemax to sell to the shock knows who, and we don't shocking know to whom they're gonna give it. We've been shocking owned by last-hour nobodies like last-hour nobodies." as he paced Matt Murdock's office, Miguel O' Hara repeated this rant for what felt like the hundredth time to those listening to him, but this timethe lawyer interrupted him. "That may be true - - but you're missing a crucial point here, Miguel."

"Which would be?" the Irish-Latino stopped pacing to glare at a man who'd never glare back, and that just calmly stated: "These guys are not nobodies. The stunts they pulled, when you have no superpowers, just like them...they take preparation. They take training. They take _resources._ "

"You mean someone's backing them?" Miguel questioned, and Laura glassly noted, the venom and anger in her voice increasing with each and every word that came out of her mouth: "One of them mentioned Kimura, my old nemesis. Which means she's got to be involved with this. And if _she_ is involved, Weapon X _must_ be involved, too."

"I don't think so." Murdock replied, and turned to Peter. "You said that Stranger also mentioned some kind of 'Game'. Could it be that someone is playing behind the shades, playing us all like pawns on a board?"

"It could be." Peter nodded, and then shivered. "That old man at Horizon University... he mentioned the Game, too. And mentioned a John Dark. The name alone struck fear into Black Pierrot and Jazz. I think...I think he's the guy who plays on the highest level, together with the old man."

"Could be. I'll investigate this trail, Peter. I remember John Dark as a childhood scary story in Hell's Kitchen, but after 2001...no, never mind. You and Laura should focus on the Weapon X one, since you're both X-Men and you, Peter, have Avenger status. Miguel should help me. In the meantime, we'll all search for the Murder Crew. Do we have a deal?"

"We do." Peter replied, and Laura put her two cent in. "You can count on that."

"Very well." Murdock nodded, and turned to Miguel. "Miguel?"

"Deal." the scientist grumbled, and limped out of the room.

 **-Line Break-**

Miguel O'Hara swung through the cold breeze that seeped through New York's skyline at night, his blind Kung Fu Jesus-freak (not that he'd ever say that to his face) companion trailing him, jumping from roof to roof. Finally they landed on top of one particular speakeasy.

"Why this place?" the Spider-Man of 2099 questioned, and Daredevil replied, crouching on the roof of the locale. "After the demise of Mr. Negative, the Black Cat is the second most powerful gangster in New York, which means that any information exchanged in the underworld of the city is bound to pass through her nightclub. I thought you were one that did his homework, Mr. O' Hara."

"Har-Dee-Har-Har." Miguel sarcastically replied. "So if we take the Cat, and we take her alone, we'll have the info we seek. Roger that."

"Actually, it's more complicated than that - - _Miguel!"_

Too late. Miguel had already broken in as soon as he heard the Cat making negotiations with a feasible client over a safe phone line - - but of their whole conversation his attention had focused on only one point: the Cat had _the_ pen-drive, the same one the Murder Crew had stolen from Alchemax and that he needed to save his time. When _that_ came into the equation, the rest could go shockin' screw itself.

And so he crashed through the closed window, sending shards of glass flying everywhere - - and being sent flying he himself by a heeled booth to the face.

"You're not him." a female voice growled angrily. "You're just the impersonator."

"Sorry if I ain't your ex, baby," Miguel replied, recognizing the unmistakable hourglass-curved shape of the Black Cat, and taking out his stingers almost istinctively, adding: "He'd have just lectured you and probably gave you a good night of those you'd remember. Me? I'll just kick your ass till you give me back what's mine."

"In your dreams, imitator." she countered, throwing him a roundhouse kick. Miguel parried it, deflecting her leg to the side and then grabbing it to make her lose her balance as _he_ kicked her. The Cat kept her guard up to prevent himself from the blow, but at the same time she got her free leg off the floor to kick Miguel off her, freeing herself from his grasp and landing on a crouch on the floor, narrowly avoiding Miguel's next blow and doing a breakdance move to kick his legs out from under him.

Miguel groaned at the pain in his back as he crashed through the floor, going straight through a mahogany table (probably stolen, too). Feigning weakness, he snatched a CCTV monitor from behind the woman. The woman managed to evade it, angering Miguel even further. He cursed. The torn cables, with its exposed wires, knowing fully well that his costume from 2099 could take even a million volts and let him walk out of it unscathed, but the Cat with her spandex costume, oh, she wasn't going to be that lucky...if only it had managed to hit her.

 _Time to play dirty._

His next punch barely scratched her cheek - - but her mask was ripped away by his last-minute stinger. Blood and spider venom alike poured from the cut on Felicia Hardy's cheek, and the woman already started to hobble on the spot, and her vision to darken.

"Don't worry, it's not gonna kill you. It's only gonna hurt you really, really bad." Miguel remarked, avoiding her increasingly weakening punch, and added: "I have the antidote to the spider-venom, of course. And just as of course, I'll give it to you if you give me the Alchemax pen-drive in exchange."

"Fat chance."

"You know, I can wait. I've got all night here."

"Bulls***." another, female voice roused him from behind, and then there was Silk, holding her claws to Daredevil's neck. "You have exactly ten seconds before I slit your friend's throat like a pig."

"Now, dear there's no need for that. You just tell us who you were planning to sell that pen-drive to, and we'll be on our merry way." Daredevil reasoned, and the Cat laughed at him throught he pain, derisive, rich yet strained laughter bubbling genuinely from her chest. "I am sorry, my dear horny devil. I've already sold it. I was merely negotiating the terms of payment."

"It's a special client, isn't it? There's something very, very big cooking, and a very big spoonful of it out for you, or you wouldn't have done things in that order."

"You wouldn't believe it."

"Well, you can keep the money. At least, you'll be able to afford a good lawyer this way."

"There is no money involved, silly. But I thank you all the same."

"What then?"

"Aha! Not going to tell you, dearie!" the Cat shakily got to her feet, almost gritting the words out one by one, liquid fire scorching the inside of her veins, and sensually trailed Miguel's jawline in a mockery of what she'd always done with _her_ Spider-Man, the _true_ Spider-Man "But I'll give you the name: John Dark. Someone your age ought to have heard it."

"He's a legend."

"Exactly. He's the Boogeyman, in a Santa Claus costume ready to give me an early Christmas present." the Cat's index claw trailed along Miguel's neck until it found its right spot on his shoulder. The Cat pressed a button on the palm of her glaw, and immediately Miguel crumbled away, shot through tthe shoulder by a high-focus laser beam, teh Cat's laughter echoing all around him as he almost blacked out from the white-hot pain exploding in him. "See you later, boys, I've had my fun. But this Game's only for two Players, and I can't let you in!"

"Damn it all." Murdock swore, elbowing Silk in the stomach and wrestling free of her grasp, then grabbing Miguel by his uninjered shoulder. "Can you swing?"

"I'll be able to." Miguel grimaced, and jumped out of the window with him, but his leg was caught mid-swing by a webline, and he could see Silk poking out of the roof window of the Cat's Nightclub. "Wait, O' Hara! If you see Pete - - tell him - - TELL HIM - - _tell him to fall off the tracks on Monday!"_

Miguel cut the webline in two, and thought What the shock? It's a Thursday right now.

He swung off in the night with Murdock in tow, wondering what the Hell Silk meant.

 **-Line Break-**

 _The Jean Grey School for Gifted Students_

"Hi, Laura," Kitty Pride welcomed the pair as they arrived at the X-Mansion, giving the girl a hug, to which she awkwardly stiffened at the woman's expansiveness, and then doing the same with her best friend. "And hi, Pete. Long time no see."

"Hi Kitty. You look well today." Peter hugged back, and asked: "Where's Logan?"

"Brooding in the sickbay. Even after Stryker's men managed to deprive him of his healing factor half a year ago, he still goes at them, or at the simulations in the danger room, in the most reckless way possible."

"It's the way he's known for all his life." Laura tried to defend her father, and Kitty bitterly replied: "But he's had a very long life, Laura. Haven't you asked yourself why he's suddenly become way nicer to you in the last few months, and actually started to treat you as his daughter?"

"He seemed actually far nicer than usual, while I was teaching here," Peter remarked, and eyed Kitty seriously. "Kitty, what's wrong with him? What aren't you telling us?"

"You've noticed, huh?"

"My Aunt May was the same way when she got cancer in the other timeline." Peter replied darkly, and realization dawned on Laura's face, dread settling on her soul. "No. It can't be. It just can't. Please, tell me you're joking, Kitty. Please."

"I think you should see him, Laura."

"I don't want to see him. Not like this."

"Laura, he's not dying."

"Kitty, you've been a friend, but you CANNOT tell me this bullshit, not NOW, not when things had finally begun to get better." Laura protested heatedly, but then Peter caught her, and her voice turned low and cold, her claws popping out. "Let me go, Parker. I've already lost my mother and if I'm really going to lose my father... If you don't let me go, then God help me because I don't wanna lose you too."

"Neither do I, Laura. I've already lost more people than you can count, and despite everything, Logan ain't someone I wanna add to that list." Peter replied, still holding her close. "And neither are you."

"He just CAN'T die. He's Logan. He's the Wolverine. He's my father." Laura continued dejectedly, repeating: "He's my father and I want to see him. Now."

"I'll bring you to him." Kitty said, and she escorted them to the sickbay, most of the students taking care not to come near the trio, as the aura Laura was emanating would have scared off even Johnny Storm himself at his most reckless and hot-headed.

"Hey, bub." Logan smiled as Laura burst through the infirmary's door. "Back so soon? I wasn't expect - -"

He didn't get to finish the sentence. The punch knocked the animal man off his feet, and sent him skidding.

"I'm no 'bub', and I'm tired of being treated like one, so don't ever call me 'bub' again." Laura snarled. "How could you not tell me?"

"How can a man tell his daughter he's going to die?" Peter tried to get to her, but Laura sent him away. "He's lived for over a hundred and fifty years. He ought to have found a way, with all this time on his hands."

"She's right." Wolverine, surprisingly, agreed. "I should've told her. But it ain't like I'm gonna die right now. It's just I been wishin' for a good death all these years, and when I finally got the opportunity... I can't think of one. Truth is, I can't think of none."

"You want a Samurai death." Peter realized, and the Canadian nodded. "Well, maybe you'll have it."

"Peter?" Laura turned to him in shock. "Oh, no. Shit, you can't bring him into this as he is."

"Laura, didn't you think of Weapon X when they said Kimura was still alive?" Peter replied, and then mused as he saw the Wolverine's claws snikt out of his hands. "And besides, something tells me that a certain someone would die to make them pay."

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Note**

 **Wow, over already? Yeah, I apologize for leaving you with a cliffhanger - - it's not writer's block, I just wanna keep you hooked and tuned for next chapter! In the meantime, though, please R &R- - it helps me improve the story.**


	7. Chapter 7

**D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Welcome back, fellow fanfictioners. Thank you for staying faithful and tuned to this story. It's a new start, and it's a continuation. I've left you hanging, and I apologize for that. Now I hope I'll be able to leave you with your JAWS hanging.**

 **But let us not ramble anymore, and get...**

 **...On with the Story, then!**

 **Chapter Seven: Ghosts**

"Peter."

"Yeah?" the scientist asked, picking up the phone after having fumbled for a good while, not remembering he had it on his wrist as ghis personal Parker Industries-issued webware. It was Murdock. "Discovered something? We're standing in the remains of a Weapon X base: discovered very little, the base had already been destroyed by the Murder Crew, as a survivor told us...before Logan slit his throat. What about you?"

"Something big, Peter. Apparently, Alchemax's data has been sod to the Cat, and the Cat sold it to John Dark in exchange for Wilson Fisk's head."

"..."

"Pete?"

"...Are you #$&ing kidding me, Matt?"

"That's the truth and nothing but the truth I've told you, Peter. I'm serious. Very serious. You should get back to N.Y. pretty much ASAP."

"...Crap. Okay, I'll tell the others. What about Miguel?"

"He wants to dive straight in and bust the deal. But we don't even have a clue on _where_ and _when_ it's going to happen."

"None at all?"

"Miguel has managed to get a Spider-Tracer on Silk..."

 _Silk..._

"...I find it odd she _still_ hasn't found and neutralized it. And the same goes for the Black Cat."

"Never mind that. Just try to follow them and see what happens - - we'll be flying back to N.Y. immediately." Peter ended the conversation and found himself face to face with Wolverine.

"Something wrong, bub?"

His earlier decision to talk to him about that _thing_ he'd told Laura came back to his mind. Then he thought of the urgency to get back to New York. And then he thought _Fuck it._

"Well, you see, I've been meaning to talk to you about something." he smiled under the mask, and the snowy peaks of the Appalachi Mountains they were sitting on shook at the tremendous blow Logan's face received at the hands of a Spider-Man so furious and radiating EVIL you'd have thought he was in the black suit again: "First of, what sane parent tells his _only daughter she's worth less than another girl's life?"_

"You can't preach to my choir, bub: you ain't ever got any kids." Logan spat blood on the snow as he got up, and Peter raged: "The Hell I don't understand it, Logan. I've been cloned far too many times, and had a child in an aborted timeline. But all but one of my clones died, and my only child was a stillborn and I sacrificed her to the freakin' Devil himself so I could get back my Aunt, the woman who'd been a mother to me. So don't try the 'you can't understand' gig with me."

"I killed my whole family two centuries ago, Parker. I killed Sabretooth, I killed Daken. I killed my brother and my son. I killed my wife. Everyone sharing my blood, I ended up killing them, all of them. And if Laura wants to be the next Wolverine, she gotta kill me. Rid the world of another killer. At least I won't end up killing her, this way."

"You think she gives a fuck?" Peter deadpanned, taking off the Armor's mask. "She's nineteen, Logan. She's gonna be twenty on the 11st. She's been screwed up by the same guys who screwed you up, and you can help her heal because you've already been through all of that cal. And that 'you're the best at what you do, and what you do ain't nice' Wolverine crap? She goy your respect? She needs your damn love. She doesn't want a title, she wants a father, but she's really going to kill you if you keep ignoring her when she needs you."

"That's what I've been waiting for all these years, Parker. I just wanna die, and what better death than to die at my own daughter's hand now that I'm mortal again? All the bad things she feels for me - - the bad things she's RIGHT to feel for me - - they're gonna do the deed, and she's gonna be free of 'em once I'm gone."

"That's the easy way out, Logan." Spider-Man commented bitterly, his anger having faded away into the cold. "You know we never take the easy way out."

 **-Line Break-**

"Excuse me," Peter blurted out at one point, abruptly getting up from his seat and exiting the X-Wing's piloting cabin, frustrated at the continued silence between father and daughter. "I need to use the restroom."

He stormed out, wondering how it could be that people way more dense than him existed, and really made his way to the restroom as he'd told them. Once he did his busness, he splashed cold water into his own face, and began reflecting. Why had the Murder Crew decided to wipe out Weapon X all of a sudden? It would have made sense if they'd been nothing but experiments of the Facility, and that would have also explained how they knew Kimura, Laura's sworn nemesis. And yet, nothing. Just the vague mention, in the Facility's surviving data banks, of the Facility experimenting with ESP powers in human children. Whoever had been behind that project, or in that project, or even _victim_ of that project, had taken care of erasing every trace of it.

But then, if they'd been made by Weapon X, why attack Alchemax?

It didn't make no sense. And they'd hinted they'd been made by Alchemax, but Alchemax didn't exist at the time. And who the Hell was really John Dark, and who the Hell was the old man after him?

"A Player in the Game."

Well, gee thanks Captain Obvious.

"You're welcome."

At that, Peter really did turn his head. He was sure he'd already begun hearing Voice #1 and Voice #2 or White Box and Yellow Box as Deadpool called them, possibly due to too many blows to the head in fifteen years of crimefighting, but no.

The voice came from the mirror.

"Of course it comes from the mirror. Where d'ya think your regrets always talk to you."

There was the old man, through the looking glass. Sitting on the sid of a Harley-Davidson. In the freakin' Navajo Sacred Mountains.

"So how does this work? Are you an ESPer, or am I just going mad?"

A shrug.

"Probably a little bit of both. I mean, I got a lotta regrets, y'got a lotta regrets, we have a common adversary, figured we'd have a chat."

"What common adversary? The Murder Crew?"

"No, those're just the pawns on the board of the Game. Like you. Except..."

"Except?"

"...Except for the guy who can actually _see_ the Game."

"The Stranger."

"Exactly. And he's in for kicks, so watch him. The only other real Player is John Dark."

"Okay, but who _is_ he?"

A pause.

"My brother."

Another pause.

"We've Played - - we've fought - - countless Games across countless reincarnations across countless dimensions. And we're getting tired...we wanna end it, and go out, with a bang. Leave the Game for someone else unwise enough to take it on."

Another pause.

"Something I hope won't happen."

Silence.

"Okay, I get it, usual battle of Good Vs. Evil across history. But I also wanna know something else."

"What?"

"Well, _who_ are you, actually? I felt like I _knew_ you already when we first met."

"I've had many faces. Ya really forgotten this one?"

"Yes?..."

"Wasn't mine, the _New Year's Delirium_ _, The Smoking Barrel, The Running Man,_ all those songs of a time long gone ya liked to listen to when y'were younger? Mine, the _Criminal_ that haunted'cha from the first read, or the _Longest Walk_ that gripped ya and made ya mad at what my people had endured?" the man's eyes went from burning steel to burning sadness to cold dread with each word spoken, and Peter then really saw how _old and tired and sad_ was the man. "Have I really been forgotten?"

The only fear a dead man can have is exactly that, especially if said man has done everything in his power to make sure people would not forget what they were responsible for (or guilty of).

 _(Leave me. I got him, y'get the others. You gotta save somebody who's still worth savin' afterall, don'tcha?)_

"I remember you." Peter spoke slowly, the memories hitting him like a ton of bricks. "9/11. North Tower. You're the one who refused to be saved."

(Someone who ain't playin' no Game, someone who ain't bein' played on. There outta be someone like that still.)

"You weren't worth saving, you said."

 _(Tell me there is. Please, tell me, even if it's a lie. At least, I'll die happy)_

"You shoved me away." Peter's hands balled into fists. "And you still tried to get everybody out."

"Tried to get out of the Game." the old man said bitterly. "Just begun a new one."

"Why do you think this time it will be any different, then?"

"It's hope that drives me, Peter Parker. Hope it WILL be different. I'm tired. My brother's tired. And I wanna know if I'm leaving this world in safe enough hands."

"I don't know if my hands are safe at all."

"Then we'll discover it together." The old man smiled, and beckoned him into the sacred territory on the other side of the mirror. "Come on. Take my hand."

And in a leap of faith, Peter did just that."

 **-Line Break-**

And while people took leaps of faith through the looking glass that not even Alice would have dared take, a defeated figure was approached by a rising one in a shady bar in Madripoor.

"You are Kimura, right?"

"Who asks?" the woman drunkenly questioned, and the Black Cat smiled to herself. "Someone who knows you are currently unemployed."

"Well, that's a goddamn no-brainer. Everyone knows Weapon X is being destroyed everywhere. I could freakin' hear them mutant sons of bitches partying down the street back in the U.S. when I split."

"My business partner knows this situation does not please you, despite your knowledge of having been just a tool for your superiors. He's willing to pull some strings, and make it so that they give you amnesty back in the States."

"Screw amnesty. It's safer to be locked in prison, with all the mutants out there, at this point."

"He's also willing to give you a shot for payback against a certain enemy of yours...namely, Laura Kinney."

Kimura perked up in disbelief at that, and the Black Cat produced a laptop. On its screen, a prerecorded message from John Dark started playing.

"Hello, Miss Kimura. My name is John Dark. I believe we have a...common thorn in the side. Codename X-23."

Kimura smiled.

 **-Line Break-**

Meanwhile, on the X-Jet, Logan finally swallowed the lump in his troath - - and turned to Laura, who'd taken the copilot's seat.

"Laura, I think we need to talk."

"I think you need to keep your eyes on the route."

"I think the autopilot can do that for me," Logan pressed a switch, and the Jet started piloting itself. "Laura, I know yer angry at me."

"Well, that's an euphemism." Laura snorted, in the most sardonic way possible. It was chilling. Or it would have been, if it hadn't been that he'd seen - - and done - - way, way worse. But he was also a bicentennial man, and despite this he struggled to form the next sentences. "It's worked. It's always worked, up to now. Don't let anyone get close - - and I wouldn't have their blood on my claws as soon as I blinked. It worked - - till Daken came around."

Daken, Laura repetead in her head. The psychotic older brother she never had - - all thanks to him.

"My little trick managed to keep 'im alive. But it was better it hadn't worked - - for it turned him into..."

 _(Into a monster. Into a bloodthirsty weapon for some power-hungry politician like the goddamn Green Goblin. Just like you. And who's guilty for this?)_

"...Me." he finished dejectedly, Daken's death playing before his eyes, like stuck in a loop, and he OH SO WANTED to pop out his claws and gouge out his eyes for good so he wouldn't have to helplessly _watch_ anymore now tht he couldn't heal them back...at last. And yet, the thousand-yard stare was still stuck in his eyes, and his eyes were still stuck in their place. "Biggest Goddamn error of my life. And now I've repeated it. Risking _you._ Fuck."

Fuck indeed. He'd never been any damn good with words any time he needed 'em. Like right now.

"No parent ever wants to see his children die. No parent ever _should_ see his children die. Ever."

And now what? Were the Web-Head's words starting to come out of his mouth, after twelve years of prolonged exposure to him?

"Yer my responsibility, Laura. That's why I tried to avert ya, as I've always done in my life. But yer still my daughter, and yer still my responsibility."

Come on, what are you talking about?

"I'm dyin', Laura, and that's perhaps the only reason I was able to see my mistake, and will - - or rather, force - - myself into tryin' to correct it. But still - - I'm here. If ya wanna kick the crap outta me for how I treated ya, I'm here. If ya wanna let me have a chance while there's still time...I'm here."

He finished talking, and waited for Laura's answer.

And got it.

 **-Line Break-**

Dog Day Afternoon at Hell's Kitchen for Wilson Fisk. The man sitting across the table from him was a living legend, perhaps the first Big Man of crime ever. He was John Dark, who'd systematically slaughtered everyone that mattered in the New York mob from 1965 to his death in 9/11. And yet, here he was, making him an offer he couldn't refuse.

Alchemax's every little secret on a pendrive.

"You just have to give it a test run, if you don't believe me." John Dark assured him. "After the view, we'll negotiate the price. Deal?"

It was perhaps the sweetest deal he'd ever come across. Which meant he was being double-crossed. Fisk's inch caressed the ignition button of the laser beam in his stick. The man wouldn't live long, if he was double-crossing him, John Dark or not. No one double-crossed him. Not even John Dark.

"Deal." he said cautiously as he took the pen-drive. At Dark's slightest move, a hundred armed guards would get in, even if he managed to survive his laser.

"Perfect." Dark nodded, and Fisk inserted the pen-drive into the computer on the desk. Dark's chair was rigged to explode as soon as he left it.

"Then here we go." Fisk opened the first file - - and the most horrible sound ever came out of it. Immediately, the lights died down in the whole building and the room was surrounded by steel door, a countermeasure to EMP blasts such as this, and Fisk pressed the button on his stick - - only to have a crowbar slam on his hands with the force and speed of a freight train, shattering the bones almost instantly, and then getting _a f#$ ing chair_ to the face.

"A landmine chair?" the man repeated to himself in disbelief, then asking Fisk: "Do you know just how plain ridiculous that sounds?"

"How?" Kingpin could only ask him a question, as he didn't understand how it could all have happened so fast, and groped for the stick with his other hand. Dark kicked it away and slammed the crowbar right in his face, and then on that little spot between shoulder and neck, and it was like when lightning strikes, not once but twice.

"The EMP blast was just the beginning. It was only a small part of the plan, though. In the nanosecond before it started, a computer virus found its way in every system of the building, except those in this room. Before the lights died down, a low-frequence sound was emitted by every electronic appliance present. This sound goes straight to the most primal part of the brain, turning off inhibitions and basically making everyone hungry for everyone else's blood, just like that funny little SIM card in _Kingsmen: The Secret Service._ Now everyone you could call for help is killing each other, and all exits to the place are barred, so we can have a little _chat."_ the crowbar came down on him again, and again, and again. John Dark nodded approvingly at his handiwork and added: "And the best part? My ass never touched the fucking seat.

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Hello, fellow fanfictioners. A lot of things have happened in this chapter, haven't they? A lot of things are gonna happen in the following ones, things meant to offend, disturb or mistify, as David Lynch said. The plot is getting more complex, darker: will our heroes figure it out faster than us, and make sure that the world is safe again?**


	8. Chapter 8

**D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Hello, fanfiction aficionados! How's it going?**

 **On my part, things have been going quite slowly, but I think I've finally managed to set a pace for this story - - which is slowly but surely advancing towards its conclusion. This chapter, in fact, marks the beginning of the second half of the story - - which I hope you'll appreciate as much as the first one, and possibly even more.**

 **But enough with the dilly-dallying, and...**

 **...On with the Story, then!**

 **Chapter Eight: Fear the Dark**

"Ready, Miguel?"

"I was shocking BORN ready, Murdock." Miguel O'Hara replied, and approached the lock of one of the 24th floor windows of Fisk's skyscraper, letting his holographic assistant LYLA do the rest. "There, here we go. No alarms."

"You did a good job, then."

"No, I really mean it. There ain't an alarm that would sound in the whole shocking block. SP on Fisk's ass."

"John Dark was a renowned mob boss killer in his days. It's possible he used an EMP device to prevent Fisk from using any alarm to call for help. But Fisk is definitely NOT someone that would call for help. He'd beat you within an inch of your life, torture you physically and psychologically, and then throw you out of a reinforced glass window. Over and over again, if you make him particularly angry."

"Then why the EMP? It's almost as if John Dark WANTED us to get in here."

Matt Murdock AKA DareDevil had no answer to that.

But the building did.

"Hey, Murdock...what the Hell is this noise?"

"It's a brawl, Miguel."

"John Dark?"

"John Dark did never brawl."

"Then what - - oh, shocking Hell, they're coming right at us!"

 **-Line Break-**

Peter Parker got out of the toilet visibly shaken. The bad trip he'd just had made him swear to never trust strangers in the mirrors anymore.

He stumbled all the way up to the piloting cabin, and crashed on the seat right between Laura and Logan.

"So," he threw the question around almost casually, "How was your 'bonding time'?"

"Believe it or not, we of all people managed to end up talking for hours." Laura replied, and Peter nodded, happy that father and daughter had finally managed to come to terms: "Well, you had years of conflict to resolve."

Then, he realized: "Wait a minute. Just how long have I been in that restroom?"

"Just be thankful it ain't the only one on the Jet," Wolverine smirke, "Or we'd have had to clean arachnid remains out of it for DAYS."

"You'd have left your daughter without her boyfriend just so you could take a leak?" Peter replied in mock-disbelief, and Logan turned at him with the most calm and poised face you could imagine, which, on him, was just plain creepy. "No. That's what I'd have done if ya'd broken her heart."

"At least you're being honest."

"After breaking your legs."

"Just as I expected."

"And skewering you."

"Typical."

"And feeding your brains to monkeys."

"That's a little outlandish, but I'd go with it."

"And shoving both your arms up your ass - -"

"Cut it, Dad. We get the point." Laura interrupted the verbal fencing between the two, and added: "Really, if you keep scaring all my boyfriends away, when will you ever have grandchildren?"

"Webs's far too thick to know fear." Logan grumbled, then stated with finality: "And grandkids decidedly ain't NOT something I'll ever wish to deal with."

"Good. Your parenting skills aren't that much existent, as you know."

"Hey, I'm trying to make amends."

"Emphasis on trying." Laura quipped with a smirk, and Logan grumbled: "You've been spending too much time with Web-Head here."

"Hey, I think it's a good thing she's adopting some of my most endearing qualities, and besides" said Web-Head leaned down to whisper in Laura's ear, somewhat frightenedly: "You'd never punish me in any of the ways listed above, right?"

"No," Laura smiled like a shark. "I think I'd just cut off your manhood."

Peter gulped. Honestly, what was with him and his fascination for women that could kill him all too easily?

 **-Line Break-**

"What the Hell is happening here?" Miguel asked, three thugs madly glomping him while he tried to hold off six others, by now punching and kicking and shooting webs in every direction, his Spider-Sense going haywire by the sheer number of attackers that came from every corner. "Christ, everyone's gone berserk!"

"Do I look like I know?" Murdock replied, in no better shape, his heightened senses in a receptory overload as he tried to fend off the berseker-mode-turned mob.

"No. You look like someone praying to the Virgin Mary for his ass to be saved!"

"Will you stop blaspheming?"

"Hey, sorry if I'm offending your religious sensibility in a time like this, my folks were Catholic too and they didn't give a damn!"

"Are you really making a debacle of this while fighting bloodthirsty, berserker gangsters?"

"Hey, must keep up the image of the Spider-Man."

 **-Line Break-**

"Distress signal from Daredevil and Spider-Man 2099." Laura announced, then exhamined the transmission, frowning: "It seems everyone in Fisk's tower has gone berserk."

"Crap." Peter swore, putting on his mask. "They won't last long."

"I see New York below us." Wolverine said, and the X-Jet made a sharp turn to the left. "There we are."

"Good." Peter commented, opening the door. "Park this somewhere, we're going in."

"You think I'm gonna let ya two go down there alone? The Jet can take care of itself."

"Logan, you don't even have your healing factor anymore - -"

"And when has it ever stopped me before?"

"...Never." Peter amended, and the trio jumped into the fray.

"It's horrible." was the first thing Laura said when she witnessed the no-holds barred fight to the death that was going on in the tower. It was like each and every person had decided to turn on the other and rip their throat out no matter what.

"Like in _'Kingsman: The Secret Service'_. Only Bloodier and Gorier." Peter quipped, already swinging his webslingers like machine guns, but the attempt was far too half-hearted not to hear the all-too real grimace in his tone, and it did nothing to ease Laura's growing horror away. Not that she'd have had any knowledge of what tropes were, anyway.

 _This wasn't fighting, it wasn't killing. This was just senseless, animal slaughter, and it was all too similar to her berseker rages, a state she'd vowed not to enter ever again._

This is not you, she repeated herself. This is not you. You're not like that. Not anymore.

 _The utter deprivation of control, the drive to kill everything in sight, friend or enemy. This was her, in the days of the Facility._

This is not you, this is not you. You're not like that, not anymore.

 _Her, standing in a pool of her mother's blood..._

This is not you, this is not you, not anymore, you're not like that, not anymore, not anymore, not anymore.

 _Her father's blood..._

"Laura!"

She could feel the tip of her claws on his stomach, and yet his voice did not tremble. He didn't show fear. He didn't back down.

"Laura, please. Calm down."

She looked past him, all around her...and all that she saw were dead bodies covered in blood, the same blood covering her hands now.

 _Peter's blood._

"It's okay, Laura, it's okay."

"No." Laura fell into his arms, crying into his arms. "It's not okay. It's never going to be okay."

 **-Line Break-**

"Ah. Finally. You have come." the man in black's voice sent chills up their spines as they reached Fisk's office. "I was beginning to fear that something had happened to you."

"Cut with the cheek, Dark." Spider-Man 2099's chest heaved with barely-suppressed anger and he shook with adrenaline running in his veins at the speed of a freight train. And Talon's earlier homicidal freakout hadn't helped, either. "And out with the pen-drive."

"You see, I'd really like to comply." the man in black shrugged: "But facts are...it's gone. I've destroyed it."

"Destroyed it?" the vigilante replied. "Let me get this straight: you put us through nine floors of Hell for nothing."

"You made me kill again." Laura seethed. "You made me turn into an unfeeling, brainless monster like all those people. You pulverized everything I'd ever achieved in one blow. And all...for nothing?!"

"Given your time in the Facility, it should be nothing new." the man's rebuttal was simple and chilling, because it was the truth, and a truth Laura couldn't live with anymore.

Something inside her screamed. Something that wanted to wash away all the blood with more blood, something that wanted to make all the wounds disappear under bigger wounds.

It was only Peter's hand on her elbow that stopped her, but in that act of comfort there was something that only she hadn't noticed. Peter had fallen silent.

All the others had noticed, instead, and they knew all too well that when the Spider-Man finally shut up, someone was going to get hurt really, really bad.

"Though 'for nothing' is not exactly right. There is a certain uselessness, senselessness, meaninglessness to the endless drive to destroy each other humans seemingly possess. I wanted all of you to experience it at its fullest and most basic form...and see who, among you five, would be human. And I have to say, X-23, you were the one who succeeded. And succeeded brilliantly, I may add."

"My name," Laura growled, barely containing her anger, "Is not X-23."

"X-23, Laura, Talon, who cares?" the man in black replied, walking along the lenght of the protecting field generated by his briefcase, "The point is, you should thank me. I've showed you how to be free of your restraints...now, you're ready to be showed how to free yourself from your past."

"What are you talking about?"

"Show up at the remains of Horizon University dance hall tomorrow, at midnight. You'll find your answers - - and your freedom - - right there." the man in black picked up his briefcase and opened the window. "In the meantime, my dearest crimefighters, you are free to enjoy your consolation prize."

And with that, he stepped aside and moved the desk over to reveal the hulking prone form of a shell-shocked Wilson Fisk.

"Funny thing, isn't it?" the man in black remarked, and stepled through the open window. "You superheroes always get there too late. Always and only after the trigger has already been pulled."

And with that, he was gone.

"Shock!" Miguel was the first to curse, kicking the turned-over desk apart. "He played us like retarded fools, shocking chess set pieces!"

"Well, I'm not going to waste any tears on Fisk," Daredevil bent down in a crouch in front of the Kingpin's fallen form, "But if the guy's gonna be adamant on having done us a favor like the Murder Crew was with Norman Osborn, I'm gonna check up what he was doing to put us - - and Talon especially - - through Hell just to have his privacy."

"Who the shock cares?" Miguel asked dejectedly, his anger dying down. "He's made us fight for nothing, for his own amusement. And he threw himself off a building not to let us have the last laugh. What is there you could possibly wonder about a guy like this?"

"I don't know, Miguel. For starters, he seems to have broken his Modus Operandi this time." Murdock remarked, and Spider-Man questioned: "What so you mean?"

"John Dark was a killer of everyone who had power. But this time, he's left Fisk live."

The vigilante went down to listen to Kingpin's ragged ravings more closely, and the only thing that could leave that giant, shell-shocked mouth carved into that giant, shell-shocked face was: "The Horror...The Horror...The Horror..."

That was all he could say. That was all his eyes could see.

"He didn't let him live." puzzled, Daredevil turned at Talon for elaboration, and Laura said: "That's not life. That's just the most basic, description of the first years of my existence, stripped down to their purest form. Something no one - - NO ONE - - should ever go through."

Peter was the only one to remain silent, mostly because he thought that that was one Hell of an understatement.

"Hey, Webs. Take a look at this." Logan's voice roused him. He was pointing at the laptop on Fisk's desk.

"Holy Jesus." Peter breathed out, watching John Dark's handiwork. "Thirteen years spent trying to put Kingpin behind bars and this guy makes it in half a hour with a laptop and Fisk's mental virginity."

"Wait a second." Logan remarked, anger growing at the familiar sight. "Those pics on the bottom row. That's..."

"...The Heads of Weapon X." Peter finished, then added, sarcastically. "Who'd have guessed that Wilson Fisk, of all people, would be one of the top financers of Weapon Fisk?"

"Pretty much everybody." Daredevil deadpanned, and turned back towards Fisk's body. "Payback has come, at last. Sometimes God does indeed punish the sinners."

"God," Peter, despite being raised Lutheran, mused, "Or was it the Devil?"

 **-Line Break-**

The man in black was the guy she'd spoken with via the Cat, Kimura realized as the temperature in the room got several dozen degrees colder.

John Dark.

A nobody, if you looked at him without the critical eye required. A M.I.B. like those of the movies, but without a tie, and with a leather badass longcoat to barely set him apart from that lot.

And yet the old, angry scar over his eye, the strong hands that could easily snap your bones at the slightest touch - - no, this man was a somebody, and he had all the intelligence to stay one even after death.

But Kimura did not care.

All she cared about was the deal this guy had come to offer her.

"Laura Kinney. X-23. Talon." the man showed her different pictures of her nemesis, without really sounding engrossed in what he was talking about, just businesslike. "You two have quite the score to settle."

"That's an understatement."

"And the cheek, too. Anyway, she is a thorn in my side. I want you to kill her...and I'll arrange for you to do it without interference or complications."

"Wonderful." Kimura didn't betray any emotion. "What's in it for me?"

"I know for a fact that a certain four-man band is persecuting Weapon X everywhere around the States." the man pulled out his trump card, the offer she couldn't refuse. "You're a mercenary, of couse. You fight for a price, and that's obvious. But if I added a bonus to that? Perhaps...what would you say if I told you that I'll take care of the Murder Crew if you take care of Laura Kinney?"

"Simple as that?" even with New York's most powerful crime boss at his disposal, it seemed quite a stretch to Kimura for him to be able to finally kill those four strangers that had randomly winded up at every Weapon X base they could find and killed everyone inside, seemingly untouchable.

Especially the one in red. A savage. A berseker. A monster. Nothing seemed to hold him down, to kill him for good. No target was too hard for him.

Just like X-23, Kimura thought with a shudder...only without the failsafe switch.

"You want revenge, don't you? I'm offering it to you, without tricks or loopholes. However, know from now that even if you're free to walk out of these doors, you're doing it at your own risk."

"I'm a soldier. I'm quite able to handle myself." the mercenary growled. "If you are done with these pathetic attempts at blackmail..."

"Blackmail? Oh, it's no blackmail, no ill feelings. I'm just making you aware of the rules of the Game."

"The Game?" Kimura almost spat out. "You mean you consider this all just a game?"

"The destruction of Weapon X, the appearance of the Murder Crew, the death of the Kingpin, the possibility of having revenge...set pieces, my dear. The rules you have to play them with you already know." John Dark told her, taking off his sunglasses and gently touching her hand. Kimura looked straight at him in the eye, ready to take out her blades...but it was already too late. "The deal is sealed and the time is up. Go, now."

Mechanically, Kimura did just that.

 **-Line Break-**

"Peter" Laura asked as they got out of the building via the roof, the uncharacteristical tremble in her voice surprising the older man. "I'm scared."

"Because of what happened today?" Peter ran a hand through her jet-black hair; the carnage and John Dark's words about it had been unsettling even for him.

"No." Laura spoke in a distant whisper. "Because of what's going to happen tonight."

"You'll make it, Laura. You'll win Kimura."

"I want to kill her so badly, Peter. The things she did to me...but...I don't want to show that John Dark was right about me."

"He wasn't. I know he wasn't. You're not that person anymore."

"There's always the matter of the trigger scent, remember. It made me kill my mother and my master...I don't wanna see Kimura use it on you, or...or on Logan."

"Nah, it wouldn't work if she threw it to me." Logan remarked with a shrug. "While it's true that it was designed with'cha as a basis, I'm yer genetical template, so it would basically make _me_ go berserk on myself."

"I don't believe it." Spider-Man breathed out, his jaw dropping. "Logan..."

"What, Web-Head?"

"...Have you actually been paying attention to my classes?"

"...No. Weapon X tried it on me and Sabretooth once, right after they put the Adamantium inside me."

"Yikes." Spider-Man shivered, and added: "Anyway, I think that the Dark man wouldn't do it."

"He's obsessed about playing this Game, but he's more interested in Laura than you. You saw the face he made when he saw you with us."

"Yeah, but y'heard him when he talked, didn'tcha? He's nuts. And he's obsessed with Laura, as you said. That's enough in my book to sign his death warrant."

"Wrong. It ain't your place to kill him - - "

"Wrong my ass! I've seen ya with Laura and I don't need a superhuman sense of smell to know that ya been ******* her, so I don't think you'll be able to still put up with that ****** superhero morality once he hurts her - - "

"Would you two please stop talking about me?" Laura scowled. "I'm right here, you know."

"Sorry." they both replied in unison, shamefaced.

"Good." she nodded, then she turned back to Peter. "Now, as you were saying...why can't he kill John Dark?"

"I talked with the old man we saw at Horizon and he told me that." Peter revealed.

"What?! When?!"

"On the X-Jet flight back here. In the toilet. He was inside the mirror."

"...You sure you weren't on acids?" Murdock questioned.

"I _wish_ I were."

"So?" Laura tried to get him back on track again. "He said it's his business to kill John Dark. Not ours. Apparently, this has been _their_ Game long since before the dawn of Man."

"So what's it like? The so-called Eternal Battle of Good and Evil?"

"More like God and the Devil." Peter remarked sardonically, and noticed the glare Daredevil sent him. "That is, if both guys were Native Americans. But anyway, even if I've gone against far too many universe-threatening entities and I've seen God brothers clash many times (even if most of those times the God brothers in question were actually Asgardians), but these two...they feel familiar. More human, in their fighting."

"What do you mean?"

"It feels like two actual humans going at it again and again, life after life, for so long they've even forgotten why. Like God hit Cain and Abel with Laser-guided Karma and forced to relive their war forever."

"It is possible, however far-fetched may it seem." Murdock contributed. "I was still a kid when they still talked about the endless war between John Dark and Red Sarge. They were truly two monsters, everyone everywhere seemed to be afraid of them. But they were supposed to have died in 9/11. So you might be right. There might be some external, otherworldy force at play. The way those two feel...the way they seem to play with other people...they're just like the Arcane during the Secret Wars."

"Damn right." _Logan_ of all people internally shivered himself. He remembered the multiverse event all too well. Ever single metahuman or mutant worthy of attention had been plucked out of Earth, including him. He'd almost gone mad, at first. It hadn't been long since he'd managed to break free of Weapon X's control... only to be captured and used as a living weapon for someone's amusement once again. He was glad it had happened ten years ago, long before his daughter was released from the Facility...to be pitted against her would have been the ultimate mockery.

"I'm calling myself out of this, Peter." Matt Murdock told his friend, who immediately turned to stare at him in utter disbelief. "I'm sorry, but this is just too big. I had no place in the Secret Wars already, after all. I'm a street leveler, Hell's Kitchen is my game. A Game of Gods is not something I'm cut out for. I'm just good for helping the little guy, this...this is far too much out of my reach."

"I understand." Peter replied grimly. "But the Murder Crew? THey're still at large, you told us you'd help us."

"Of course I will. But I won't fight John Dark and Red Sarge. Those two, you know what they are? They're like the plague, they're a purge. Their battle is the fire that burns out the bad weeds and permits life to grow on the ashes. The only peace you can have, out of their battles, is when they kill each other, like they've always been doing."

"You know...that's the most messed up way of explaining the cycle of life." Peter smirked bitterly. "But you're right, I too am conscious that the best effort we can manage without a backfire is to help save people, instead of fighting the bad guys." then, with a sigh, the Spider-Man turned to his future counterpart. "And you, Miguel? Whaddaya say?"

"I say that I have no reason of staying here." Miguel replied, with a defeated shrug. "I only had one reason for helping you against the Murder Crew. Now that they have been targeting Weapon X and not New York anymore, and that John Dark has done away with my reason, I have nothing that could compel me further in this fight."

"That's it? You're throwing in the towel just like that? Don't you realize that even the sudden disappearance of the Murder Crew is another part of the Dark's plan?"

"A plan on which nature we haven't got a shocking clue."

"Exactly! That's why we must - -"

"We must?" Miguel chuckled bitterly. "I'm sorry, Peter, but I'm not like you and you know it. Heck, when I got here from 2099 I was ready to kill you."

"So that's it? Your only goal is to prevent your future? You never had any other reason to help us?"

"More or less."

"You son of a - - " Peter began, but was stopped by Laura.

"No." she shook her head at him, looking at Miguel O' Hara with pity in her eyes. "He's not worth it."

"Don't you dare give me that crap, little girl. You don't know how messed up my world is, for reasons nobody even knows, for reasons that have been snatched right under my nose, when I was _that_ close to find them out, right before becoming involved in this mess."

"I know I don't." Laura admitted, briefly looking down, but when she looked back at Miguel, her eyes were hard of steel, and burning like Hell. "But what I _do_ know is that you're noth worthy of wearing that mask."

Miguel stayed silent for a moment, before abruptly grabbing his wrist and teearing off the watch generating the costume's nanomolecules. "You know what? You're right. You're shocking right. So right you can go shock yourself with it." and with that, he threw the watch to the ground, and re-entered the building to go away. "One last thing, Peter."

"What is it?"

"I met Silk. She asked me to tell you to fall off the tracks on Monday."

"That it?""

"That it." Miguel nodded. "See ya."

And just like that, he walked away.

"Take that as a lesson." Logan remarked finally to his daughter, lighting himself a cigar. "Nine times outta ten, people ain't strong enough to fullfil their own promises. Nine times outta ten, even heroes reveal themselves to be mere people who put on an act. Nine times outta ten, these people let you down."

"But one time out of ten...they don't. One time out of then, you find what you're looking for."

"And have you?" Logan looked at her, the brutal honesty of a dying man in his eyes. Laura's own eyes briefly flickered to Peter's figure, and then returned to her father's, stronger than he'd ever seen her. "I have."

Peter, meanwhile, had paid no attention to their conversation, his mind too busy trying to decipher the mysterious piece of advice.

 _Tell him to fall off the tracks of Monday._

 _...the inauguration of the Parker Industries' monorail to Ryker's Island?!_

 **-Line Break-**

 _Later that night_

"You'll do it. You'll win."

"Would you stop reassuring me? You're making me feel worse."

"I was trying to reassure myself." Peter admitted, and Laura whipped to face him, dishearted. "Really? That's all the faith you have in me?"

"It's not that, it's..." the Web-Head sighed. Damn him and his bloody habit of always putting both feet in his mouth. He turned to face his partner again, and Laura could tell his face had softened even if it was hidden by the mask. She had no idea how she could, it was just that...she felt oddly in sync with him, but not in the way she felt like with her father; this was something she'd never felt before. "...I got you into this when I agreed I'd train you, Laura. You see, you're one of the strongest women I've ever met - - but whenever you mention Weapon X, I see you grow... _dark_. I fear the times you grow _dark_ , and you know why? Because I fear that all the progress you've made, all the way you've come...will be swept away if those _bastards_ hurt you again."

"It's very...noble, of you, to say this." Laura managed, unsuccessfully trying to swallow the lump of foreign emotion forming in his throat, but Peter shook his head, cupping her cheeks with both hands and making her look at him.

"No, Laura, it's not. I'm not saying it because it's noble." Peter's mask receded into his armor, and he he looked at Laura in earnest. "I'm saying because I love you."

Laura's heart skippe a bit, at that. None of this did fit in with his character, or with how he was and how she'd known him to be, but it all added up with the way he'd treated her, with the way he'd been with her. But she'd never experienced such closure as he'd given her ever before, so her first response was automatically incredulity and disbelief. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not joking, don't even say that - - "

"Then you're saying that if I _do_ become the _thing_ you fear if I kill Kimura - - you'll kill me, right?"

"What?! Of course not - -"

"Please, Peter. If you do love me, please do this for me. You're the only one I could ask that to."

"But why?"

"Only a human can kill the monsters." Laura explained, tears welling in her eyes as much as in Peter's. "And you've been the only one who's ever been human to me."

"Laura..." Peter breathed, his voice _that_ close to cracking, as their face were inches apart, their lips nearly touching...

 _Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap._

 _"Bravo!"_

 _Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap._

 _"Dare I say, a truly wonderful performance!"_

 _Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap._

 _"But now it's time for the final act!"_

 _Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap._

 _"Because the time is up."_

And with that, the Stranger ceased his applause and stepped out of the night. One didn't need a Spider-Sense or a superhuman sense of smell to know that the rest of the Murder Crew were behind them.

"Your fight awaits you, mylady." the Stranger told Talon with a cerimonious bow, and added, extending a gloved hand out to her: "I'll be your Charon and your Virgil in your descent to Hell. All you need...is to hop on board."

Laura stiffened, finding her resolve, and accepted the hand.

"I'm ready."

"Glad to hear that. To die when you ain't ready to do it is one of the most horrible things ever." the Stranger replied, the same crazy glint in his eye, but joined with a strange feeling of comprehension. "I know it because it's how I got on this Earth."

Then, she stepped over the line with him, ready to fight her last battle in this Game - - only to abruptly turn back. "Wait!"

Peter perked up at that, and he abruptly turned too, as he was being guided away by the Murder Crew in the opposite direction. "Laura?"

"I- -" the woman seemed to stumble on her words, but finally she managed to say it: "I love you."

Peter smiled, as the mask creeped back into his face and the two were once again led away. "I know." he said, and the Game was on.

 **-Line Break-**

"Hi, old man." Logan turned towards the voice as soon as heard it.

Mocking. Cocksure. Bloodthirsty. So much it made his claws pop out of his knuckles before he could acknowledge it.

A loner figure than him stepped out of the shadows. Lanky and lean, a foot taller than him, e had thrown a blood-red overcoat over his same-colored suit and gripped his cane over his shoulders like Alex DeLarge in _A Clockwork Orange_ , and shared his utterly deranged smile, carved into his face with something less elegant than a switchblade. He looked at Logan straight in the eye, unfearing, and Logan did the same with him.

His grey eyes were _burning._

"Your daughter is going to fight, tonight. The strangest thing about this is that I don't know the outcome of her fight...but I know all too well that of the fight you and I we'll have, and it is one that will please both you and me."

Logan looked out of the corner of his left eye, and saw Laura step on the mat, in front of her old torturer.

He looked out of the corner of his right eye, at Peter, fending off the rest of the Murder Crew. Good. He'll hold them off, away from Laura, making sure nobody would interfere.

Good. This was Laura's fight, and Laura's fight alone.

But this Stranger in front of him...he knew at a glance whose fight he was.

He was **his** fight. The fight he'd be craving for all of his life.

He wouldn't harm Laura. He'd make sure of that, because this now was _his_ fight. His _last_ fight.

Finally.

"Then let's roll."

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Aaaand we're back to the Rant once again. This chapter has surely been longer than the previous one, but in my opinion, it has been no less fundamental. The story of Laura and her budging family has reached a focal point, the consequences of which you'll witness in the next chapter, so please stay tuned - - and please, don't forget to Read & Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Hello, readers! As you can see, a new chapter is out, something I myself didn't expect anymore (I'd broken my right wrist a while ago and started to fear that I wouldn't be able to write again), and I apologize once again, but fear nothing: you've only got two more chapters to go, after this, and then, like old Tricky Dick said, 'Our long presidential nightmare will be finally over.'**

 **Because yes, let's face it: this story hasn't been the best of experiences, be it either for you or me**

 **I don't certainly consider it my best story (that honor goes to 'Star Wars: 'Dark Mirror'' and to 'We've had a good time' my first collaboration with fellow author TheDragonPrinces), but rather... a failure.**

 **As full of bad choices as the Star Wars Holiday Special, this story needs a conclusion. A painless and fitting one. I hope I'll be able to provide one by February bu** **t for now, I've rambled long enough, so...**

 **...On with the Story, then!**

 **Chapter Nine: Fight for your Freedom or Die Trying**

 _Horizon University, the destroyed area_

"X-23." the woman smirked, taking out her katana as the Stranger once again disappeared in the background. "We meet again."

"For the last time." Laura replied steely, unsheating her claws. "One of us will not walk out of this fight, Kimura."

"I don't need you to tell me. I don't need you to tell me anything, _X._ You've talked long enough. Now it's time to fight."

"Then let's fight."

 **-Line Break-**

"Ow, Mother******!" Peter cried out inwardly at the umpteenth bullet striking his armor, which by now he'd gathered that hadn't turned out like the spectacular breakthrough in protection technology and had ended up being more or less a glorified, spider-themed full-body bulletproof vest. Moreover, the sense of protection it gave him constantly messed with his Spider-Sense, making it virtually useless as they kept attacking him from multiple directions.

Fed up with their taking him for a shooting range target, he spun his webslinger so that he'd utilize the strongest fluid, the one that, like the proud Stargeek he was, had dubbed 'durasteel' and for a reason: no bullet or projectile could go through the stuff, which was so resilient that it could hold a Boeing 757 and be disrupted only by a super-concentrated heat beam. An idea popped out in his mind of weaving it into the armor's material; but a schythe being slammed (and shattered) on his skull thankfully (and painfully) wrenched him back into reality.

Mildly disoriented by the blow, he was hit square in the jaw by the butt of Jazz's Big Freakin' Gun (to put it in troper terms like he was often fond of), then the barrel of said gun's twins impacted with his nose, sending him straight in the path of Black Pierrot's shotgun muzzle.

 **Spider-Sense: Dodge, you Nerd!**

Great, in a time like this even his sixth sense liked to make Dragon Ball references. Just what he needed. Also, the sharp pain in his side notified him how slow was he getting.

"Just be still, wouldja?" Schythe grumbled, swinging a Big Freakin' Knife that only narrowly missed his jugular. "At least we can make it painless that way."

"Somehow, every time I hear that sentence, I feel even less reassured." the Spider-Man jabbed, and then caught the knife between his two hands, hearing the click of the BFG behind him once again, and then promptly slamming the girl into his would-be shooter. "Aw, sorry, but twins are so adorable when they're together."

"Don't even joke about it," snarled Jazz, but an offhand punch from the arachnid sent her flying and landing flat on her back.

"To tell the truth, though (Ha! Take that alliteration, noobs!) I am, quite frankly, utterly sick of it." the Spider enounced coldly, losing his usual snark in a matter of words. "I don't get it, sincerely. How long are you gonna play like set pieces into the hands of a man like John Dark? What are your reasons? What could possibly bring you to be _that_ driven to suicide...I wonder."

"As if it matters." It was once again Jazz who pulled a weapon on Peter from behind, but was promptly hit and stuck to the still-not-fully-cleared rubble their earlier bombing of the building had created by a human-sized net of web fulid.

"Of course it matters. All villains have a freudian excuse...and I just so happen to _love_ one. I even post stuff about them on TV Tropes in my free time, what do you know?"

"Didn't we tell you? Didn't you pay attention, in the Alchemax Tower? Didn't you understand it, that Norman Osborn strapped us up onto experimentation tables and just had his sick, twisted fun with us since we were kids?" Black Pierrot spat, shaking with rage inside his bindings. "If you didn't, then you're just proving my point even further."

"Your point being?"

"You are useless, _hero_!" Black Pierrot spat. "You only ever cared about your petty squabble with the Green Goblin, you never gave a crap to whom got caught in the crossfire! Do you know how many failed experiments there were before us? _Thousands._ Shade is one of them, a failed, mentally deranged _clone_. Jazz is a survivor of the 9/11 attacks, found in the wreckage and retooled for fighting by Oscorp, but an _insuccess_ like us all the same."

"And the Stranger?"

"Stranger?" Black Pierrot repeated, blinking in confusion. "I don't know. _I don't know_ and it scares me far more than whatever you might have in store for us, because he came to us one day teling us that all of this was just a _Game_ but we could play in it too, that we had a shot at revenge before our already shortened time ran out."

"And so you started killing people? Playing terrorist? For what?" Spider-Man questioned, grabbing him by the collar of his leather coat. "Why? Just to show that people get caught in the crossfire when heroes and villains? Well then I've got something to tell you, sonny. _Everyone already knows that_. You are REDUNDANT."

"I know." Black Pierrot coughed. "But I did it all the same. I needed to do it. There had to be something I could do, even if it was redundant. There had to be something out there, some role or purpose, even a useless one, after Norman Osborn had used us for nothing and then thrown us out on the streets."

"And you played into the hands of the Stranger right way? How come, you're all for free will and yet you can't even bring yourself to choose freely?" Spider-Man barked in his face. "You didn't even manage to get revenge on Osborn because your so-called benefactor beat you to the punchline. I wanna hurt you so bad, Black Pierrot. You hurt Laura, you tried to make another 9/11, you use your failed clone as a minion when you're nothing but a failed clone, you're nothing but a hypocrite that can't even bring me to feel sorry for him. I want you to pay for everything so bad, but I think I'll just go for something worse."

-Line Break-

"You have greatly improved since our last fight, X." Kimura smirked, turning the blade back onto her adversary, who seemed to show no signs of wear, but Kimura knew better. Physical wear wasn't an issue with a Weapon X experiment. Psychological wear, on the other hand...

...She could see it all. All the subtle tics and twitches and even the slightest falter in X-23's composure...her mere presence was able to conjure horrible memories of endless abuses, beatings, punishments, rapes, and it showed how much the girl had matured, the fact that she wasn't breaking down into an ACR even as Kimura kept pressing all her trauma triggers. She'd tried to taunt her with the death of her mother, her master, and even threathened her with the menace of killing her father, and that cursed bug-man (no doubt the reason behind her newfound resolve), and yet, X-23 had stood strong in front of her...but even the strongest island could be eroded by the waves, and she could see that it was only a matter of time before Laura Kinney came undone and all that remained was poor, little, helpless, inhuman X-23.

"So I've been wondering," she began again, once again parrying a frenzied stab and a horizontal slash after a feint, "Did you stop cutting yourself, now that you have a new boyfriend? Or...did you keep it up? It's hard to tell with your healing factor." she smiled even wider, malice dripping from her grin like blood from a tubercolotic cough. "Does he know you still do it?" another stab, another jab, straight at the heart. "What would he do if he knew? Maybe, he'd see you for what you are...a monster, remember?"

"Yes." Laura went for a stab - - and at the very last time changed the blow's direction and sheathed her claws, effectively punching Kimura in the solar plexus and knocking the wind out of her. "And now I finally have the chance to thank you for that."

"Glad..." Kimura began, but was interrupted by a bachand and a roundhouse kick to the face, before Laura tackled her to the ground and pinned her down, her arm in one hand and claws at her throat, "...That your new naïve boyfriend...hasn't made you any better. You are still the victim I so pleasantly remember."

"Oh he did. Especially when, he made me realize something::" and at that, she wrenched Kimura's arm right out of her socket and then broke it, watching wordlessly as the broken bone tried to tear through the assassin's unbreakable skin. "I stopped being a victim years ago."

"Out of your goddamn mind- -" Kimura cried through gritted teeth, kicking the feral mutant off herself and jumping back to regain her guard. "I'll rip you to pieces, you bitch! I'll mess you up so much that everything I've done to you at the Facility will feel like a walk in the park!"

"Bring it on." Laura grinned ferociously, putting her guard up once again. "I'm gonna enjoy it so much."

-Line Break-

"Why?" the Wolverine breathed out in disbelief as the Stranger put his Hattori Hanzo back in its sheath and turned his back on him as he knelt in the concrete, beaten, bloody, and tired beyond belief. "Why can't you kill me?"

"I've already given you the answer to that question." the Stranger coldly stated, propping his swordstick against his shoulder. "Fifty years ago."

"Bullshit. I never saw you - -"

"Come on, Logan. You still have some smarts, beven with all that amnesia. Rememer the man who talked to Peter Parker in the mirror of the X-Jet? The man who you fought with in Vietnam, back in '67?" the Stranger smiled, his demonic grin widening impossibly as he stretched it with his blade, in a perfect Glasgow Smile. "The man who eluded you all today in Kingpin's hideout? Logan, you wound me. And if I remember correctly, I told you to get a hold of yourself five decades ago."

"Yer an immortal like me, ya bastard." Logan spat blood at him. "Why can't ya put me outta this misery then, if ya know it yerself, eh?"

"Because you have a reason not to die, you stubborn Canadian."

"Damn right he hasn't." a voice said from behind the Stranger, who promptly felt something audibly sharp press lightly into the back of his neck.

"I wasn't aware you still had your stingers, arachnid."

"Parker Industries manufacture." Spider-Man replied. "It helps, being bodyguard to the CEO of a major high-tech developing company."

"And being CEO of said company helps even more." the Stranger smirked as he turned. "Isn't it right...Boss?"

Peter almost doubled over, seeing as the enemy was replaced with Spider-Man 2099, but regained his cool. "Shapeshifter?"

"Perception manipulator, thank you. But even if you may find Miguel O' Hara under this mask, the costume is real. Just nicked the holowatch off him as we attacked Alchemax and left him K.O."

"Good. You can give it back to him while we bring you in." the Stranger made to move, but then noticed a generous amount of web-fluid sticking his feet to the pavement, and decided it was best to bide his time.

"Now what is this load of bull?" Wolverine interjected, standing up on his over-injured own. "The bastard is mine."

"Your daughter is fighting her arch-enemy to the death and you're on death's door yourself. This may be a bastard who's played us like fools, but I really think you need to rearrange your list of priorities if you want her to keep calling you father."

Wolverine opened his mouth. He seemed to be on the verge of replying, of saying something, anything...

...But nothing came out of his mouth.

He cast his eyes to the ground and retracted his claws, marveling at his own selfishness.

"Come on. The battle is won, the war is finished, and everyone's alive." Peter prodded, and briefly smiled: "It's just been games without frontiers, and war without tears. Just like Peter Gabriel taught us."

"Amen to that." the Stranger shrugged, and offered his hands for the handcuffs.

Meanwhile, one bloodbath away, two women where panting heavily in the cold air of September.

"It is over." Laura Kinney told her former torturer, bleeding from wounds too many to count. "Just give up."

"Probably." Kimura gazed at her with the eye the Talon hadn't poked out. "At last the student has bested the teacher, it seems. Finally. I was so damn tired of all this crap."

"You taught me nothing, Kimura."

"Maybe I was just bullying a dragon all this time. Maybe I had a death wish." Kimura remarked between rasps. Laura had broken two of her ribs, and now the splintered bones were pushing against her lungs. Her healing factor had kicked in, but it would take time for her to be able to fight again. And with her impenetrable skin, surgery was out of the picture.

In shorts, she was as good as f*cked.

"There's...a vial in my utility belt, third pouch on the left. It's...it's a nullifier for my powers the Fa...cility had developed in case I ever turned...against them...I managed to steal it during the...destruction of Weapon X. I want you...to take it and u...se it to kill...me."

Laura obeyed silently, retrieving the vial.

"Good. Now...pour it...down my throat..." Kimura cringed as she felt her broken bones slowly and painfully knit themselves back together, cell by cell. "...And do your worst."

Then, just as she'd told her, Laura made her drink the nullifier...and then just got up and started waking away.

"What - - What are you doing?!"

"I'm doing my worst. I'm leaving you powerless. Vulnerable." stated Laura. "Human."

"Why?" Kimura questioned, as Laura got out an unscathed WebWare and proceeded to dial 911.

"It's not to make you suffer or prevent you from choosing a cheap cop-out, if that's what you think."

"Then why is it?" Laura coughed. "To teach me what it means to be a victim or some of that same shit?"

Laura did not reply. Instead, she looked away and saw Peter approaching her with her father, both of them alive and well, and smiled.

"I think I've finally learned how to be a better person."

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 ** _And so this is Christmas/And what have you done/Another year's over/A new one's just begun..._**

 **It's just like everyone's saying, this year of 2016 was utter shit, or so it seems. While it certainly turned out to be (especially for my writing), in his latter months at least, an extremely catastrophic year... it doesn't mean 2017 has to be any worse. It just mean that 2017 has to be better, just all of you have to be to make it so.**

 **It's exactly what I'm going to do, starting my writing and by apologizing to all the authors I've been disrespectful towards in the past year (especially Christian writers). In 2017 I'm going to finish all of my stories, and start writing seriously once again. I hope I'll still see you all on , and that we will be able to share and enjoy each other's writing without fear or animosity or any other problem between us all. Be well, all of you, and make it so that you make everyone around you well.  
**

 **With** **Peace and** **Love, D. The Wanderer** **Out.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**D. the Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Far from being what the title suggest, this chapter is actually the last shot at wrapping things up and sending out this story with the dignity it nonetheless still deserves. So...**

 **...On with the Story, then.**

 **Chapter Ten: Train Wreck**

"- - I mean, seriously? Ryker's? Not the Vault, or the Raft, or the Big House, or..."

"Apart from perception manipulation, you don't have any powers. And besides, there's no one you can exert your influence over. All the security at Ryker's is artificial. The upgrade dates back to the aftermath of the Black Cat and Crime Master's break in of the prison."

"Wow. You're more crazy-prepared than Batman, Parker."

"I just don't need another senseless game on my hands, Stranger."

" _Senseless_?" the Stranger's gaze turned borderline homicidal for a second, but Peter's Spider Sense didn't buzz, because the Stranger returned to utter calmness a second later, a bitter smile on his face. "Well, I suppose you're right. This was no Game of Gods."

"Damn right it wasn't. But I wanna know why you put so much effort into making it look like it was."

"The Game of Gods ended long ago. Maybe on another world. Maybe in another time. Maybe on the Fields of Trenzalore... oh, sorry. Wrong Siege, wrong wasted nine hundred years of fighting. In another dimension ended it did, of that certain am I." the Stranger ended in Yoda-speak, apparently sadder than the little green Jedi when he told Luke that when gone was he, the Last of the Jedi he was going to be. "Soneone had to win it...And I'm all that's left of it."

"So you're the winner. Who are you? The One or the Other?"

"I don't know. Just...the one who walked away, ran away from it all after it was over. And with a box and too much time on his hands, I became a madman. And then, I lost the box too."

"And you think that's an excuse?" Laura said. "It's the lamest, most pathetic thing I've ever heard."

"Life is never grandiose _, child._ " Stranger bit back. "Life is sad and pathetic, and you of all people should know just as much as me. Even the greatest adventurer can die at random, for no great cause or reason at all, and without any convinction at all. I just wanted to have fun while I went...or tried to go."

"Oh, you'll have fun." Spider-Man said. "You don't know the fun people Ryker's filled with. Even Fisk's there. Everyone of the great criminals who do not need to hide behind a mask, as the great mad bard Alan Moore would say."

"Sweet." the Stranger said, then asked: "Tell me, do you remember Silk's message?"

Spider-Man frowned in confusion. For a moment, he couldn't understand what the Stranger was talking about - - and that was all that the Stranger needed to slip off his handcuffs and throw them right at him.

"Aw, fake hands, really? C'mon, that's some of the most batshit Joker's stuff there!" Spider-Man quipped as he dodged. "And not killer Mark Hamill stuff, but disappointing, lame Jack Nicholson tricks at that!"

"Lame, but effective. That's not my first trick, or my last." The Stranger smiled, and the train started shaking. "You created this monorail route to Ryker's together with Miguel O'Hara, didn't you?"

"Why do you - - oh, son of a _bitch_."

"Exactly."

Immediately a series of small, rapid explosions wrecked the train's control system...and Iggy Pop's _The Passenger_ started playing.

"First rule of slasher films, Parker." the Stranger said as three figures fizzled back into visibility. "The killer always comes back for one last scare. Now, these three poor saps? You told me you'd rid them of their only anchor of salvation." the Stranger slowly stepped behind the Murder Crew. "Let's see how it goes."

The Murder Crew's eyes had all changed. They were all...empty, devoid of everything. Like nothing remained to them.

"Let's just do them a favor." Laura's claws popped out, and Peter turned to her. He opened his mouth to tell her that this wasn't the way he worked, but one look from her shut him up. His way didn't work here. It was time to be kind and let them go gently into the night.

Well, perhaps 'gently' wouldn't exactly be the right word. More like 'beating the shit out of them till their lights blink out'.

Unsurprisingly, it seemed the Murder Crew had the same idea in mind for the two superheroes. Jazz was the first to attack, firing a volley of bullets right at them, which they shrugged off with little problem...or, at least Laura did, thanks to her adamantium claws. The Stranger laughed his ass off watching Spider-Man perform something that would have made a Cirque du Soleil soil his pants - - but his laughter stopped when he realized that there was a webline stuck to his coat. He only managed to get half of himself out of it before Spider-Man wrenched him right towards Shade's schythe, which ended up tearing the overcoat to pieces together with Stranger's patience.

"Okay, now I'm pissed, arachnid." he deadpanned, snapping his fingers. Immediately Spider-Man was tackled by the Black Pierrot, crashing straight through the reinforced glass door to previous back train car.

"Your boyfriend's got his hands full, honey." Stranger quipped, watching Laura fend off both against Shade and Jazz at the same time as he darted inside the next car. "Guess I'll leave you girls to themselves, then. See ya!"

"You're not going anywhere, you son of a - -" Laura shouted after him, only to be interrupted by Shade's blade swinging right at her head. She backflipped and jumped back, avoiding Jazz's bullets once again. She would have wondered how on Earth could Parker Industries have had the access to the Adamantium necessary to mold them, but thinking in the midst of fighting wasn't a free action in the superhuman world, unlike talking. Dodging another swing, she ripped out one of the metal car seats and used it to block the next one, using it to get the schythe stuck in it and then pole-butt shade in the face.

"You know, I'm really starting to miss all your bitching." she muttered to the knocked-out criminal as she threw the seat through the window, knocking Jaz off balance.

The monorail was currently going at 200 mph, and the wind coming from the busted window effectively prevented any of Jazz's bullets from hitting her target, no matter the fact that they were just thirty feet across each other.

Jazz - - or whatever had been left of her inside her head - - wasn't to be deterred, however. She crouched low under the shattered window, slowly making her way across the car to shoot Laura at point-blank range and dodge the whole wind problem. Laura, on the other hand, was holding on for dear life, regretting her decision. Suddenly, she got an idea. She grabbed Shade's leg and dragged her to her hiding spot. Jazz didn't pause, the mere notion that Laura was apparently going to use her friend as a meat shield not even touching her.

Then, all of a sudden, Shade jolted awake, her hands going right at Laura's throat. Laura just let her do it and impaled her on her left claws, freezing her on the spot.

"Sorry." Laura muttered, raising her right hand to Shade's head. Shade's black eyes where empty just like before, but for a moment Laura was remembered of the eyes she'd seen when she was a child, looking into a mirror. he shook her head to clear the thoughts away, and the still-alive Shade again tried to choke her, the feint having failed.

It was useless. Laura's left claw went through the girl's brain with the force of a speeding bullet.

 **...**

"You damn sucker..." Peter gritted out through clenched teeth as he kicked Black Pierrot once again.

It was useless.

He threw another punch.

 _Nada._

And another.

 _Non._

And another.

 _Niet._

A backhand-elbow-judo throw-dropkick-suplex-masterclass dropkick - - -

 _\- - - Nein nein nein nein nein nein!_

He even snapped his neck and twisted it a full three-sixty for good measure.

It was still utterly fucking useless!

He kept getting back up, more uncaring than a zombie or a slab of cold dead meat, no matter the sheer number of broken bones Spider-Man's blows had left him with. Beginning to get tired, Peter began to rant as he kept punching him into the ground: "So this is what you wanted, eh? A sense, a meaning to your existence? Look at you! You can't even talk! There's nothing left in there, there's no one I'm talking to! You're deader than George Romero's _Living Dead_! I'm just talking to myself, now, and I love talking to myself, but this is getting ridiculous. I tried to reason with you guys, but there's no use. There's no one in your heads to reason with. You're just puppets for the Stranger to play with, like Kimura, the Cat or even his holograms...even me. God, even me, all along. You and me, just damn puppets for some crazy asshole to amuse himself with, and I'm fucking sick of it, so why don't you - -" _Crack_ "- - Just - -" _Krnch_ "- - Stop - -" _Squick_ "- -Getting- -" _Splat_ "- -Back- -" _Splat_ "- -UP!..."

"...Why are you just punching a bloodied floor?" Spider-Man looked up, and saw the man that had talked to him from the restroom mirror of the X-Jet. He looked down, and saw he'd climbed onto Black Pierrot's chest and proceeded to punch his head into nothingness. Only a puddle of blood and gore remained of the experiment, quietly still inside the dent the wall-crawler's punches had made into the floor. "Seriously, taking out your anger and frustration on some poor, mindless zombie while the villain gets away with his plan? There are lives at stake, Spider-Man. Hundreds. Don't get there too late like you did fourteen years ago - -"

"Shut up." Spider-Man said to the man as his death flashed back before his eyes, the burning ceiling finally crumbling over the staircase...and the aftermath. The staircase was still there, and still remained at the Ground Zero Memorial Center museum, but the man rushing people down the staircase had gone, only to come back right now. "Shut up. I don't need you reminding me of my job. You refused my help back then, you have no right to talk of lives at stake when you threw yours away, so just **SHUT UP!"**

"Peter?" Laura's voice brought Peter back to his senses, and when he looked back up, the man was gone.

"Just another of his tricks." he whispered, before turning back to Laura and casually remarking: "You're covered in blood."

"So are you."

"I've broken my code." Peter whispered again, looking at his hands. "And what for?"

"Mercy." Laura reassured him. "It was mercy."

Peter nodded numbly. he looked at her. Her eyes had gone glassy, her stare was a thousand yards long. He knew his own was, too, under the mask. He wondered whom she was really reassuring, him or herself.

"What happened to the other two?" he asked.

"Took a dive." Laura simply stated. "We're over the Hudson Bay."

"The Bay?" Peter repeated. "And we haven't stopped yet..oh, shit."

"What?"

"Stranger intends to crash this train straight into Ryker's." Peter realized, and darted towards the head of the train at super speed, Lura following behind as best as she could.

 **...**

"Stranger!"

"Why, why blow the element of surprise, Spider-Man?" the Stranger smiled, without even turning to look at the hero behind him.

"Because my Spider-Sense is blaring more than an military facility alarm system, telling me that if I make one more move, you'll do something I'll regret."

"Indeed." Stranger commented, ripping off a piece of the destroyed control room and turning back to the heroes while keeping it pointed to his throat." Kinda nice of you to leave a manual emergency control system so that I could rip out the brakes."

"Don't make any bullshit decisions, Stranger. You're not getting away with this, not even with suicide." Spider-Man stated.

"It's useless, Parker. You should just heed Silk's advice, right now. As for me, I've had so much fun playing this Game with you two that I decided I'm giving you a favor."

"What do you mean?"

"Ryker's the place in town for all those criminals who don't need a mask to hurt people, as you know. Tombstone, Kingpin, Big man, Mr. Negative, Crime Master, the Maggia, _et cetera_. The old underworld, the cancer of this city, the one people like Luke Cage and Daredevil and even you spent so much time fighting. They'll probably be out on parole by next week, too."

"Get to the point."

"You decided to be the medicine and help every single New Yorker, heal every single cell of its body. I admire your choice, but someone needs to be the surgeon cutting off the rotting, infected limb and tonight Frank Castle was busy." the Stranger smiled, then shrugged, extending a hand towards the arachnid.: "C'mon, Spidey. I played with people's lives. Why can't you just let me go out with a bang among people like me?"

"Because- -" Spider-Man tried to reply, but he stopped. Truth be told, he had no answer. No worthy reply, no funny quip, no badass one-liner. Only...

"Because from great power, must come great responsibility...and you're all outta responsibility."

"Fair enough." the Stranger said, and shockwave-blasted him across the room and out of the car.

The door to the head car slammed shut immediately thereafter, with the Stranger's voice speaking through the intercom: " _Just give me my last hooray, Spider. You did a great favor to everyone in this city for_ years. _The man who I kept making you see? He was just a metaphor to making you understand you ought to slow down a little. Enjoy life with a girl that can not only keep up with you, but will downright outrun you. Let someone else take care of business for once, the quick, painless, brutally efficient way._ _And please, let some old man like me have a laugh_ _._ _"_

Spider-Man slowly stood up, his Spider-Sense shrieking like a banshee: Ryker's Island was drawing closer.

 _Let someone else take care of business for once, the quick, painless, brutally efficient way_ _. And please, let some old man like me have a laugh_ _._

He turned and saw Laura, finally catching up with him.

 _Slow down a little. Enjoy life with a girl that can not only keep up with you, but will downright outrun you._

Laura wasn't stopping. She was passing him, her shoulder bumping into his own as she drew her claws to slash open the door- -

 _Sayonara, Spider-Man._

\- - And the impact with the freezing cold water of the Hudson Bay fortunately hurt hard enough not to notice Ryker's Island go down in flames in the background.

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **And so ends January...yet so does NOT end this story. Stay tuned for the epilogue, people - - coming to you on 28th February.**

 **In the meantime, please, PLEASE Read and Review. This story has been my most painful one to write, and I really want to see if it was all for nothing or not.**


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER:**

To all 9/11 victims and survivors (or relatives of victims or survivors)...it is not my intention to offend or disrespect anyone in swapping the names of two real (random) victims for those of my fictional characters.

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **And so this story finally ends, on time for once. I must say, it was not a pleasant writing. The story soured as the chapters went on (as did my mood and opinion of it) and turned out to be cheaper than the idea behind it - - which, I must admit , was an outright ass pull.  
Everything about this story was made up as it went, and at a certain point I was literally writing by the seat of my pants.**

 **However, in the end I luckily managed to get a hold of it (and myself) once again, and this is the final product.**

 **I hope you'll like it. It's noticeably more somber and less bombastic than my previous output, and I hope this change was for the best. So...**

 **(breathes)**

 **..** **.On with the Story, then.**

 **Epilogue**

 _11 September 2015_

"So what are we doing here?"

"We're honoring someone." Peter replied, still clinging close to Laura as the two walked into Memorial Plaza. "That, and I'm thinking of taking a break."

"A break?"

"Of course. We've been so busy trying to survive mind screw after mind screw in just four days of a ridiculous plot that I think things have got a bit out of hand."

"It was ridiculous, all right." Laura said, then asked: "Does this mean we're both...we're both taking a break?"

"Not from each other. Even after all of this, all we know about each other is just the really dark, really sad, stuff, and you could do with a bit more smiling. And I could, too."

"Definitely."

"Hey! Was that humor coming from you?"

"I...admit that there are _some_ good things I learned from you during my stay here."

"Yeah. I'm sorry I had to drag you into this madness instead of, well, being a teacher like Logan wished me to be."

"It's fine. This long battle between me and Kimura had to come to an end sometime, and if that was the way it had to end...I'm fine with it. I can't live haunted by the shadow of Weapon X anymore. After all, I have a great power, and with great powers, come great responsibilities."

"You applied that old saying better than me." Peter said, his mind flashing back to the pointless death of Black Pierrot.

"You couldn't have done anything." Laura said, and Peter smiled. "Funny. The person we've come to honor told me the same thing. Sure, the context was a little different, but it fits the situation."

"Who were they?"

"One of the two men playing the Game of Gods, and the maker of some badass rock music." Peter said, opening the package he'd brought along. "He and John Dark always played the Game. Played it for so long that it became carved into New York's collective consciousness...and yet when the Towers fell, everybody forgot about them. As a matter of fact, even if you look for a record or book or statement by one of these men, you won't find anything."

"Really?"

"Nothing. Nada. Niet. Niente. Rien de rien. Zich. Freakin' nothing. And yet, there's his name, among that of all the other 2,995 people who died when the Towers fell. I still remember it as if it was yesterday."

(Get away - - take as many people as possible, but please get away from here!)

"Trapped in a burning inferno and still helping people escape. I darted in. I tried to save him. But turns out he didn't want to be saved."

"Why?"

"John Dark was in the same building, he said, and he had to save him. So he shoved me away."

(Go back to the people - - they need your help, hero)

"He wanted to save his enemy, but I didn't understand, then. I did as he said and tried to save as many people as possible...but the Tower fell just as I did so." Peter sighed deeply, taking a red rose out of the package. "I was just sixteen. It made me think of how some things go beyond out control. Of how we can't predict what some madman will take from us next. And just a year later, our dear late Norman Osborn came and reinforced this point. I'm still afraid to web-sling around the George Washington Bridge, to this day. Afraid of the sound of Gwen's neck getting snapped by the whiplash coming back to me."

"What was this man's name?" Laura asked, sensing she ought to get him back on track. Peter snapped out of his memories, and grabbed the rose. He stepped up to the west corner of the north memorial fountain, and placed the rose on an inscription had been defiled into unintelligibility. He briefly marveled at the cruelty of such a childish vandalism, and looked at the water sliding towards the center of the memorial, inesorable like the Towers falling.

It fits, he thought. He saw another inscription, equally vandalized, and wondered if he'd put the rose on John Dark's name, instead of Red Sarge's.

Red Sarge.

That was the name.

He told Laura, but they agreed it didn't matter anymore. The Game was over, and those two men - - those two Players - - ought to rest in peace, whoever they'd been.

"So how's Logan?" Peter asked Laura as the two made their way back home.

"Healing." Laura replied. "And so am I."

"I'm glad."

"Not as much as me. We talked about a lot of things."

"He's decided to pass the mantle on to you, didn't he?"

"How did you know?"

"You talked about great responsibilities...and I know Logan's pretty big on that."

"Pot calling the kettle back.'"

"Touché. So, have you accepted?"

"I've been thinking about it." Laura said. "But right now, I'd rather be focusing on more important things."

"Such as?"

"I'm Logan's daughter. This means I've got an absurdly long lifespan, and yet, two of the most important people in my life are mortal, even if one is relatively new to that."

"Then..." Peter asked with a smile as they stopped, "We better make the most out of what little time we have while we're at it, shouldn't we?"

"You read my mind." Laura smiled herself, and they kissed.

While the two were indulging in romantic effusions, another figure walked inside Memorial Plaza. They didn't notice him.

Nobody noticed him, actually, and yet he should have stuck out like a sore thumb, with his red leather overcoat and absurdly long grey scarf fluttered in the wind.

The figure didn't mind being ignored, as he didn't want to be bothered by anyone. He wasn't a visitor or even a tourist, after all.

He was a mourner.

The figure unwrapped the package he'd brought along, which contained five bright red roses.

One he placed next to Peter's own, one on the other Player's ruined inscription, and the other three were for people the two heroes hadn't bothered to investigate.

Red Sarge's daughter, for example.

A neurotic elder brother and his mentally ill little sister (whom he'd always tried to take the best care of), for another.

Three innocent people who died too soon and were crudely 'repurposed' to suit the personal gains of Norman Osborn and his empire, be it Alchemax or Oscorp, turned into soulless weapons.

He'd tried to give them a little... _personality_..but it didn't quite work out as he'd planned.

And the Players? Their Game was over, by now. The rerun had been fun, but now it was time to give them back to the place they belonged to.

Wordlessly, he turned to the two vandalized inscription, fished sixteen metal letters out of his pockets, and started rebuilding the memorial.

 ** _THE END_**

 **D. The Wanderer's Author Rant**

 **Aaaand that's all, folks. This story is finally over...and yes, this really felt to me as the best conclusion to this story.**

 **Hopefully, we'll meet again.**

 **Peace & Love!**


End file.
